


Refuge

by whichclothes



Series: Refuge [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-14
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 44,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/pseuds/whichclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

_  
**Refuge (1/14)**   
_

**Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  1 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to poast a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

 **  
  
    
**

**REFUGE**

 **  
One: Arrival   
**

 

He hated that fucking doorbell. 

It had an asthmatic, jittery sound to it that made his spine jangle and his head hurt. It would go off at all times of day and night, and almost always when he made his way down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor he’d find someone who was trying to sell shit or was looking for someone else entirely, or sometimes his neighbor Jaume who constantly locked himself out of the building. And then Xander would have to walk the three flights back up to his apartment.

Usually he simply ignored the bell. People who really wanted to see him had learned to call when they arrived at his place. He kind of liked his phone’s ringtone. _Ring of Fire_.

So when the bell coughed at him in the hard edges of this particular early morning, Xander was not pleased. He’d only made it into bed a couple hours earlier and he was bleary and bone-tired, his body still aching from his exploits the night before. The bell rang and he swore groggily at it. Just as he was slipping back into sleep, it rang again. He wrapped the pillow around his ears. But the pillow barely muffled the sound as the bell called again and again.

“Fuck,” he said as he half-fell out of bed and found his blue sweatpants wadded up in the corner of his room. He almost fell again trying to put them on. “This better be fucking important,” he mumbled, making his way down the stairs. The tile was cold on his bare feet.

It was with less than good humor that he yanked the building’s front door open. And then he almost lost it completely, because there was nobody there—just four empty stairs and, across the narrow cobblestone street, the xarcuterie that wouldn’t open for hours yet. Xander glared at the hanging hams as if they might be responsible for the ding-dong ditching, and he turned to tromp back upstairs. But as he turned and just before the door swung shut, he caught a glimpse of…something…crouched up against the building itself, alongside the doorway. He paused and pushed at the door again.

It was a man. Or the remains of one, anyway, thin and ragged and dirty, huddled against the stone façade like a stray cat. The man was bent low on his knees, his arms protectively over his head as Xander had once been taught in earthquake drills. He didn’t look up at Xander at all, but it must have been him who pressed the bell. There was nobody else in sight down the long street. 

Xander considered going back inside, back to his warm bed and fluffy pillows. But then the bells at Santa Maria del Mar rang—one, two, three, four, five, six—and with every toll the man’s body shuddered.

Xander sighed. “Est   
à   
s b   
é?” he asked in his terrible Catalan. “Estàs ferit?” At least he had experience asking the locals if they were hurt, so that was within his vocabulary.

The man didn’t reply.

With an even heavier sigh and a shiver from the chill air on his bare skin, Xander crouched next to the man. “Necessita ajuda?” Xander asked softly, and set his hand on one bony shoulder.

The man jerked away, pressing himself more firmly against the building, and made a sound like a frightened animal. 

Xander had pretty much exhausted his non-food-related mastery of the language. He decided that his best bet was to go back upstairs and get his phone so he could call 112. The cops could figure out what to do with this guy. He gave the man what he hoped was a reassuring pat and, in English, said, “Hang on.”

But as he spoke, the man peeled his arms away from his head and lifted his face to look at Xander. And that’s when Xander’s legs went wobbly and he toppled backward onto his ass.

The man was Spike.

The hair was wrong—long and matted and some indeterminate brownish color beneath the filth. The clothing was wrong, too. He was dressed in a shapeless gray thing that might once have been a sweater, and a pair of blue jeans that had more holes than denim. But the face was right: pale skin, ice-blue eyes, knife-blade cheekbones. Under the dirt Xander thought he could even make out that little scar on one eyebrow.

“Spike?” Xander squeaked breathlessly.

Spike blinked at him. “H-Harris?” His voice was thin and rough.

“What are you doing here?”

Spike squeezed his eyes tightly shut and then opened them again. He was still bent like a supplicant. “Help me,” he rasped.

Many thoughts of varying levels of usefulness raced through Xander’s head. Had Spike lost his soul and if so, was this a trick to eat Xander? But then why would Spike need to trick him? And since when did Spike go in for elaborate plans with costumes anyway? Okay, so if it wasn’t a trick, was it a coincidence that of all the doorbells in Barcelona, Spike rang Xander’s? But since when did Spike come to him for help? And how was Xander supposed to help Spike anyway?

But then a young man with a skinny mustache came around the corner, pushing a cart full of plastic barrels. He gave Xander and Spike a puzzled look. Xander supposed the two of them were quite a sight. 

So Xander stopped the thinking—which rarely got him very far anyway—and sighed for the third time. “Come on in, Spike,” he said. He thought he saw relief flash briefly across Spike’s face.

It took Spike a long time to unfold himself and he leaned heavily on the railing as he plodded his way up the stairs. He kept his head down and in the dim light of the stairway Xander couldn’t tell if he was injured or just weak and tired. By the end of the second flight, Xander was beginning to worry that he’d have to carry Spike the rest of the way. But Spike made it on his own steam and waited patiently, swaying a little, while Xander invited him into his flat. Inside, Spike took a quick look around and then made his wavering way to the couch. He collapsed heavily onto it and sat there with his face buried in his hands.

For several awkward minutes, Xander just stood there and stared at him. But when Spike still made no effort to explain himself, Xander finally said, “Okay. I’ll bite. What’s up?”

Spike lifted his head and stared at Xander as if he’d forgotten he was there. Then he leapt to his feet and, all traces of his weakness gone, rushed to Xander. Xander almost tripped over his own feet as he backed away, but then he was up against the wall and Spike was a few inches away. Staring at him.

“’T’s all wrong, innit?” Spike said conversationally.

“Um…what’s wrong?”

Spike peered at the empty spot where Xander’s left eye had been. The scrutiny made Xander uncomfortable. Usually when he was around other people he wore his patch, but of course he’d been fast asleep a short time ago and getting sweats on was about the most he could manage under the circumstances. He flinched back when Spike reached toward his face, but then Spike only brushed a cold thumb lightly across Xander’s cheekbone. “The wounded are meant to rest, aren’t they?” Spike nearly whispered. 

“I _was_ resting until you rang the doorbell.” Which was maybe a little petty but Xander was beginning to feel seriously wigged. 

“God, I need to rest,” Spike said. And then he moved forward, draping himself over Xander and wrapping his arms around Xander’s body.

Xander staggered as Spike’s legs gave out, leaving the vampire’s entire weight on Xander. But the wall kept him from falling over, and with a lot of grunting and under-breath swearing, Xander managed to drag him back to the couch. Spike settled onto the couch in such a boneless heap that he almost slid off, so Xander had to lift his legs and swing them around until Spike was supine on the cushions, one arm folded awkwardly on his chest and the other trailing down to the floor. Spike’s eyes were shut, with such dark shadows beneath them that his face was skull-like. Dead.

Xander spent a few more minutes staring at him, scratching at his own scalp and wondering—hoping?—this was all just a really weird dream. But when Xander didn’t wake up in his own bed, he eventually wandered off in search of his phone.

[Chapter Two](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/259138.html)

 

 

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  2 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

  


 **  
  **

****

** Two: Washing Up **

 

“But why did he show up at your door?”

Xander peeked out of the bedroom at the still-unconscious vampire on his couch, and then ducked back into the bedroom. “I dunno, Buffy. I was kinda hoping you’d know.”

“You guys haven’t been in touch, have you?”

“Buff, the last time I saw or spoke to him was in Sunnydale.” God, over a decade ago, he thought. “I know Andrew said something about Bleachboy rejoining the ranks of the undead and hanging out with Angel, but that was years ago.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Spike was there when Angel had that thingy with the lawyers. But Angel said he took off afterwards. For a while I kinda expected him to start stalking me again, but nope.” Her voice sounded very neutral, but maybe 4500 miles of phone lines would do that.

“Well, he’s here. Getting my couch dirty.”

There was a brief pause. “Xander, I can’t deal—”

“I’m not asking for an intervention here, Buff. Just info.”

This time the pause was longer, so much so that he almost wondered if they’d been disconnected. Finally she said, “Okay. I’ll get a hold of Angel. Maybe he knows something. Or at least maybe he can come collect Spike.”

“Great. Angel at my doorstep too. It’ll be a reunion with all my favorite demons. Hey, I don’t suppose you could email Drusilla? Bring in the whole family.”

“Xander—”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Missed out on about 38 of my 40 winks today.”

“I’ll talk to Angel, Xan. And maybe Spike’ll be more coherent when he wakes up.”

 _ He couldn’t be less coherent _ , Xander thought, but managed not to say. “Thanks, Buff.”

After they hung up, Xander spent a long time leaning in his doorway, just looking at the vampire. He couldn’t understand how a mass-murdering monster could look so frail and almost innocent. But that was a thought that made him uncomfortable, so after dithering about whether to leave his bedroom door open or shut—and deciding on open—he threw himself back down on his mattress, pulled up the blankets, and tried to get back to sleep.

But sleep wouldn’t come. Exhausted as his body was, his mind kept chugging like an overworked engine, wondering what Spike’s story was. When he angrily tried to push those thoughts aside, he was instead treated to flashbacks of Sunnydale, to times when Spike had hurt him and taunted him—and to times when Spike had fought at his side. Spike had fucked Anya—on camera. Spike had saved Xander’s other eye. 

With a groan of mixed frustration and resignation, Xander got out of bed again. This time he pulled on a t-shirt too, a red one with the FCBarcelona logo on it, and he padded past the sleeping vampire. Spike had moved only enough to turn on his side and curl into himself, making him look even smaller and more vulnerable. Xander shook his head at himself and walked into the kitchen.

One of the first things he had done after arriving in Barcelona was go to El Corte Ingles department store—the big one on Pla ç a Catalunya—to buy a coffeemaker, the kind that could spit out 12 cups of good old American-style black death. It wasn’t as though good coffee was hard to find around town, but sometimes he needed the stuff before he ever left his apartment. And when he was in that kind of mood, only the hardcore stuff would do, in his favorite oversized yellow mug, augmented by several spoonfuls of sugar. Dainty little cappuccino cups just weren’t going to do the job. 

Xander spooned ground coffee into the filter and filled the carafe from the tap. As the machine hissed and bubbled, he washed out his mug and took the jar of sugar out of the cupboard. Then he stood, leaning against the counter with his eye unfocused, not thinking at all.

When the coffeemaker was finished, Xander spooned sugar into the empty cup and added coffee almost to the brim. A little spilled as he stirred. It always did. He wiped it up with a blue and yellow towel and took his cup to the little table. The table had only two chairs, but that was okay because he was the only person who ever sat there. He sat down and blew onto the steaming liquid. The kitchen window was open a little and he listened to the sounds of the city waking up: shopkeepers jangling keys as they unlocked doors, children calling to each other as they left for school, young people starting up their scooters and motorcycles, old men having the same loud arguments they’d been having for fifty years. They were nice sounds and they made him smile. 

The grandmotherly-looking lady who lived in the apartment across the street leaned out over her little balcony to hang her laundry on the drying rack. That reminded Xander that he ought to wash his clothing soon too, before it started walking around on its own and he’d have to send one of his Slayers to finish it off, which might distract them from more important stuff, like those warty purplish things they’d fought the night before, and then….

Xander blinked and tried to bring his wandering brain back into order. Souled vampires, distressed. Reasons for and solutions to. That was his task for now. 

Food would help, he decided. There wasn’t much in the house—just a few apples and a half bag of chips. He mostly ate out. So he finished his coffee and walked by Spike again; Spike hadn’t budged. In the bathroom, Xander tamed his hair a little, brushed his teeth, and decided the stubble made him look manly and dashing. He slipped on a pair of shoes and his light jacket, then stood in front of the couch. “I’m going out,” he announced. “I’ll be back soon.”

Spike didn’t respond.

There were times that Xander would have fretted about Spike stealing his stuff while he was gone. But other than the coffeemaker and the dirty clothing, there really wasn’t much to steal. Xander moved often and didn’t bother to collect possessions as he went. Not that the Council paid him princely wages anyway—his rent and food took up most of his salary. 

Xander ran down the stairs and burst out the front door, startling a young woman in tall black boots. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and then stood there, trying to decide where to buy breakfast. Then an idea struck him. He twisted and turned down streets that had become familiar to him, strolling past the cathedral and then onto La Rambla. Not too many tourists were out yet, but the souvenir stands were open and a few people were eating breakfast at the cafes. The street performers were setting up—the chef who served his own head on a table, the white-painted guy who sat on a toilet, the flower man, the flamenco lady—each setting out boxes and slathering on makeup, adjusting costumes and strategically placing the tins to collect coins.

A few of the pickpockets were out too, but Xander gave them the evil eye and they stayed away. Besides, there were Guardia Urbana around as well, kids younger than him with bright yellow jackets and caps with checked brims.

La Boqueria was already crowded. Xander squeezed his way between the stalls until he came to the section with baked goods, where he bought two apple pastries. He munched happily on one of them as he went to the meat section. A case full of dead, skinned rabbits gave him a slight twinge as he remembered Anya, and the selection of hams was, as usual, pretty overwhelming.

He stopped in front of a cart full of sausages and animal parts that looked disturbingly like pieces of demon, and plastic tubs full of various fluids. “Puc comprar…um…sangre?” Xander asked, hoping his mangling of Catalan and Spanish was intelligible.

The butcher didn’t even blink. “Vaca, ovella, o porc?”

Xander wasn’t sure what the second one was, and he also knew nothing about vamp taste preferences. “Uh, vaca i porc.”

“Quant vols?”

Xander had to think about that, too. How much blood did a vamp need? Spike was awfully skinny. “Dos litres de cada,” he replied.

The man stuck a bunch of plastic tubs into thin plastic bags and handed them over. “Vint.”

Xander had no idea whether 20 Euros for four liters of blood was a good price or not, but he juggled his purchases so he could hand over a bill. “Gr à cies.”

 When Xander made it back up to his place, Spike was still curled on the couch, looking more undead than ever. Xander put the blood in the fridge and drank another cup of coffee while he ate the second apple pastry. And then, shrugging at himself, he filled a mug with blood— _not_ his favorite mug, but a slightly chipped green one—and heated it a little in the microwave. He brought it back into the living room and set it on the end table near Spike’s head.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Rise and shine. Early vamp gets the gore.” When Xander got no response from Spike, he moved closer to the couch and set a hand on Spike’s upper arm.

Spike jerked violently, pressing himself back up against the couch as if he planned on becoming part of the upholstery. He looked up at Xander and for a brief moment, his face showed pure terror. Then he blinked a few times and let out a noisy breath. “’S you.”

“Well, yeah. My house, remember?”

Spike looked around as if he actually didn’t remember, but then he nodded. Then he caught sight of the mug. “Mine?”

“I’m sure as hell not going to drink it.”

Spike took the cup in two shaking hands and cradled it for a moment, inhaling the scent of it, before taking a small sip.

“It’s just cow,” Xander said. “Or, um, pig. Sorry—all I could get on short notice.”

“You bought this for me?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t generally keep animal fluids in my fridge. Well, milk. I keep that animal fluid.”

Spike gave him an odd look and then nodded again, which Xander supposed was a thank you. He expected Spike to just chug the stuff, but the vampire didn’t. Instead, he drank it very slowly, his eyes closed, seeming to savor every drop. When the mug was empty he looked at Xander again.

“There’s more,” said Xander. 

“More?”

“You look like you could use a good meal.”

“In…in a bit, yeah? Let this settle.”

“Spike, how long has it been since you ate?”

Spike looked like he was considering the question. “True is it that we’ve seen better days,” he said at last.

“Huh?”

Spike set the cup down on the table. It rattled a little; his hands were still shaking. Then his hands fluttered around for a few seconds as if he wasn’t certain what to do with them, before they finally settled on his knees. His eyes skittered around the room before focusing on Xander again. “Harris,” he said.

“Uh, yeah. We settled that a while back. Spike, what the hell is going on?”

Spike laughed, harshly and without humor. “The hell is going on, whelp. That’s the rub, innit? ’T’s going on and on and bloody _on_!” His voice rose to a shout that made Xander back away. But then Spike slumped again and looked down at his feet, which were bare and black with dirt. “Won’t let me go,” he whispered.

Xander’s heart had started to race but now it slowed down a little as he came to a realization. He’d seen Spike like this once before. Back when Spike’s reclaimed soul was all shiny and new, and Spike had been nuttier than Drusilla. Spike had roomed with Xander then, sleeping in the closet until Buffy had chained him up in her basement. “Spike? Have you had another little visit to Crazyville?”

The sound Spike made in response might have been either a laugh or a sob. “Never left,” he rasped.

Xander wasn’t exactly in the mood to argue with that. But he couldn’t get out of Spike anything that made sense, just nonsense mumblings and stuff that sounded like quotes. When Xander became impatient and pushed a little harder, Spike curled up in a corner of the room and began to cry. It was a little heartbreaking, and it made Xander feel like a bully. He crossed the room and knelt beside Spike. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. We’ll…we’ll give you a little more time to think straight, okay?”

Spike’s face had been buried in his hands, but at Xander’s words he looked up. Tears had tracked down his face, leaving lines in the grime. “Time, he says. You’ll give me time?”

“Sure.”

“’T’s a bloody precious thing to give away, time is.”

“Um…time is money, I guess. But I can spare some.”

“Won’t toss me out?” He was begging, Xander realized. Pleading to be allowed to stay and not really believing that Xander would do this for him.

“I won’t toss you out.”

Spike made a choked noise and threw himself at Xander.

For a split second, Xander was certain that was the end of it for him. But Spike didn’t bite him, although his arms were wrapped so tightly around Xander that breathing was an issue. But then maybe that was okay, because Spike reeked. Xander freed himself enough to pat awkwardly at Spike’s back. “How about a bath?” he asked.

Spike pulled away and blinked at him. “Bath?”

Xander ended up having to lead Spike to the bathroom and start the water in the tub. But then Spike just stood there, looking bewildered. 

“Spike? Now’s the time to get undressed.”

Spike looked at him with alarm and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “Undressed? No, no, no! They can’t have any more of me. Not enough left of me to take.”

Xander really didn’t want to know what that meant, but his stomach churned unhappily at the possibilities. He tried to sound calm when he said, “It’s just a bath. Nobody’s here but me. There will be no taking.”

“You’ll stay with me? Please?” Spike was suddenly all manga-eyes.

“Fine,” Xander said, because he didn’t have the heart to argue.

Spike let out a little huff of relief and began to peel off what was left of his clothing.

“Might as well just throw that stuff in the trash,” Xander said. “I’ll find you something you can borrow until you get new clothes.”

Spike nodded once and dropped the rags in the trashbin, filling the little plastic container completely. Xander tried to avert his eyes but it was a small bathroom. Spike looked worse naked than he had clothed. Every rib was starkly visible, his hipbones jutted over a concave belly, and the few patches of skin that weren’t gray with dirt looked dry and cracked and sore. Xander had seen him naked before, and now was man enough to admit that Spike had been beautiful then. Now, he looked like something from a horror movie.

Xander had to help brace Spike as the vampire clambered over the high edge of the tub. As soon as he was in the water, Spike sighed and sank down, submerging himself completely in a way that disturbed Xander even as he remembered that Spike didn’t need to breathe. He remained underwater for what seemed like a very long time, and by the time his head re-emerged the water was a cloudy gray.

“Feel better?” Xander asked inanely, because Spike was staring at him and he couldn’t think what else to say.

But Spike nodded earnestly. “Yeah. ’S nice. But…can I change the water?”

Spike asking him for permission for something as small as that freaked Xander out more than anything so far. It wasn’t natural. But Xander said, “Sure,” and watched as Spike pulled the plug. The dirty water drained away, the slurping noise of it very loud in the tiled room. As soon as the tub was empty, Spike turned the water on as hot as it would go and replaced the plug. With a glance at Xander for approval, Spike reached for the soap and began to lather himself up. He closed his eyes as he did so, and Xander wasn’t sure whether it was because his skin hurt or because getting clean felt good.

Two changes of water later, Spike was finally free of filth. But his hair was hopelessly matted and he still looked like a concentration camp victim. Xander chewed at his lip for a moment and then stood.

“No! Don’t leave!” Spike yelled and tried to scramble out of the tub.

Xander steadied him before he could fall. “I’m just going into the next room for a sec, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Spike looked doubtful and his jaw worked. But he nodded curtly and settled back into the water.

When Xander returned less than five minutes later, Spike was hunched in the tub with his arms around his knees and his face hidden. Spike startled when he heard Xander enter. But when he peeked up and saw who it was, he visibly relaxed. He took the cup of blood Xander had heated for him and eyed the scissors in Xander’s hand.

“For your hair,” Xander explained. “You wanna play barber or should I?”

“There’s a hole in the world like a great black pit,” Spike said.

“Um…okay.” But since Spike didn’t make any move to take the scissors, Xander shrugged and moved to the edge of the tub. 

Spike sat very still as Xander cut his hair. Every now and then when Xander paused to check whether there were any more mats left, and to see if he’d cut even slightly evenly, Spike would take a sip or two of the blood. The tap dripped slightly into the tub with a soft _splat_ , the scissors went _snick_ , and it occurred to Xander that it all made an strangely domestic, tranquil scene.

When Xander set the scissors down on the counter, Spike ran his fingers through the few inches of hair that remained and smiled up at him. “Ta. _Your_ pies aren’t made of human flesh.”

“Only on Tuesdays,” Xander replied. He was getting into the flow of the non sequiturs. 

Spike pulled the plug one more time and they both watched as the water drained away, leaving a mess of soap scum and shorn hair. Xander made a face. “Ew. I’ve killed demons prettier than that. Well, cleanup can wait, I guess.”

He had to help Spike out of the tub, and even once Spike was standing on the bathroom floor, the vampire trembled alarmingly. Xander caught him just before his knees gave out, and now he had an armful of wet, naked vampire. Spike clutched at him and murmured into Xander’s shoulder, “So sodding weak.”

Xander thought for a moment and then maneuvered Spike out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Clothing would be good, but just the thought of helping Spike dress exhausted Xander, so instead he steered Spike onto the bed and helped him pull the covers up to his chin.

“Smells of you,” Spike observed, sniffing at a sheet.

“Well, sorry, Princess. I didn’t have a chance to change the bedding.”

Spike shook his head. “’S lovely. Safe. Home.” And with those enigmatic words, he closed his eyes and seemingly fell immediately asleep.

[Chapter Three](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/259465.html)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

_  
**Refuge (3/14)**   
_

**Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  3 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

  


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**  
Three: Domesticity   
**

 

The afternoon dragged on and on. Xander was restless, but reluctant to leave Spike alone. Sometimes Spike cried out from what must have been nightmares, and when Xander checked on him he’d clutch Xander’s hand hard enough to hurt, as if he were trying to ground himself in reality. When his grip loosened, Xander would bring him another cupful of warmed blood, and Spike would drink it. Sometimes silently, sometimes with bits of what sounded like poems or lines from plays, or maybe just conversations with extraterrestrials. Then Spike would give Xander a warm, thankful smile, a smile that seemed so unlike the vampire Xander used to know, and he’d fall back asleep.

Xander cleaned the bathroom and did a load of laundry, then hung it out to dry. He discovered some bread in the freezer and a scrap of ham in the fridge and made himself a sandwich for lunch. He watched an hour of a soccer match and two telenovelas. He wiped the dirt off his couch—pleased with his foresight in having bought easily-wipeable leather—and dozed. He cleaned his knives and sharpened his stakes and polished the throwing stars Andrew had given him for his birthday several years ago.

When his phone rang, he dove for it.

“Xander,” said the neutral voice at the other end.

Xander hadn’t heard that voice in years but he recognized it. “Angel,” he replied.

“Buffy called me.”

“She said she would.”

“Spike’s there?”

“Yep.” 

“Did you find out why?”

“Nope.” Then Xander decided he was tired of the monosyllables and short sentences. “Someone hit him with a crazy stick again. Big time. He’s…he’s in pretty bad shape, actually.”

“Is he dangerous?” Angel’s voice sounded very tight.

“No. He’s _scared_ , actually. I don’t know of what. And he’s starved and weak and not making any sense. Do you know what’s going on with him?”

“Last I talked with him was a few years ago and he seemed fine then. I get word of him now and then. Maybe…seven, eight months ago I heard he was in Algiers.”

“Doing what?” 

“The usual.”

Xander made an exasperated sound. “Which would be what? I haven’t been getting the vamp tweets, you know, or keeping up on Facebook.”

“Brawling. Drinking. Annoying people.” And then somewhat reluctantly, Angel added, “Keeping the bad guys under control.”

“Okay, so still fighting the good fight. And you have no idea what’s with the Cuckoo’s Nest routine?”

 “I don’t know. It’s not like he’s ever been the most stable guy anyway, Xander.”

“Yeah, but this is really bad. Like when he got his soul bad. Maybe worse.” And then Xander was hit with a bolt of insight. “Shit!”

“What?”

“I think I might have figured out why me.”

“Oh?” Angel said in a this-oughtta-be-good tone.

“When he came back from Africa he was all loco in the basement, which was so not a good place for him to be. So Buffy stashed him with me, in my closet. He even found a few of his marbles when he stayed with me. And a few years before that when he got that chip in his head? Before he figured out that he could still fight demons he stayed with me then, too.” Xander shifted uncomfortably on the couch, remembering the cheerfully filthy suggestions Spike had made when he was tied up in Xander’s comfy chair.

“So you think maybe now that he’s in trouble again he looked for you.”

“Maybe. Habit, right?”

Angel paused a moment to consider. “Refuge. Okay, maybe. But how did he find you?”

“I don’t know. I sort of supervise some Slayers here, so I guess I wouldn’t be all that hard to find if you asked the right people. But Spike doesn’t seem to be much in shape for any gumshoe work right now.”

There was another long silence. “Fine. I’ll come take him off your hands. I can be there by the day after tomorrow, I guess.”

Xander would have thought that the offer would fill him with relief. Let granddad deal with the problem. But he wasn’t relieved. Instead, he pictured Angel, big and scowling, bullying Spike around, and Spike not in any condition to fight back. He cowered when Xander entered the room, for Christ’s sake! Xander heard himself saying, “Maybe that’s not such a great idea.”

“Why? You wanna bring him here to LA yourself? Be my guest, but Spike’s a shitty travel partner even when he’s in his right mind.” Angel snorted. “Once we were trying to get from Rovinj to Anacona, and right in the middle of the Adriatic he and Dru ate the captain and the mate, and of course the idiot didn’t have a clue how to sail a ship, and—”

“He’s not eating anyone right now,” Xander interrupted quietly. “How about if he just hangs out here for a while? It’s pretty quiet, actually. And…I don’t know. Maybe California would just dredge up bad memories for him.”

“You’re willing to babysit?”

“Yeah, I guess so. For a while anyway.”

“Why?”

Xander didn’t have a good answer to that. “It’s not that big a deal. And he said he feels safe here.”

“Why do you care whether Spike feels safe?”

That was a good question. “It’s sort of my job. Helping to make people safe. And even if he’s not precisely _people_ , I guess it falls within my job description.”

“It’s _Spike_.”

“Who, last I checked, is officially on the Good Guy team.”

Angel sighed. Loudly. “Fine. Call me if you change your mind. Or if he tries to eat you.”

Xander had a sudden sense-memory of the feel of Spike naked in his arms. He was very glad Angel couldn’t see him blush. “And you’ll try to figure out what happened.”

“Yeah,” Angel said, and hung up without saying good-bye.

Xander sat a long time with the phone in his hand, thinking about the conversation he’d just had. Maybe he was as crazy as Spike, volunteering to keep Bleachboy at his place when Angel was willing to take over. But he didn’t feel crazy. He felt…satisfied. Like he’d made the right decision. It was a rare feeling for him—too often he’d decided wrong, or just not decided at all, sort of going with the flow. But this felt right. And yeah, maybe it was just some kind of weird demon instinct that sent Spike to him, a fucked-up vampire’s equivalent of an animal retreating to its den, but it was still kind of flattering. William the Bloody felt safe around Xander Harris. Huh.

 

***

 

 _  
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher   
_

_  
And it burns, burns, burns   
_   
\---

Xander shot upward out of a dream about mice in lederhosen and fumbled for his phone. It had slipped down between the couch cushions and he barely managed to catch the call. “Yeahwah?” he mumbled into what he hoped was the right end of the Nokia.

“X! Where are you? We were s’posed to meet.”

Xander shook his head, which didn’t do much to clear out the grogginess. “Galiana?”

“Did that demon hit you harder than I thought last night?”

“No, sorry. You just caught me…I was asleep.”

She said something back, but whatever it was didn’t register at all, as Xander glanced through the doorway into the kitchen. Spike was in there. Spike was in there in his birthday suit, and he was busily opening cupboards and banging pans.

“Um, Spike?” Xander ventured.

Spike turned around and gave him a cheery grin. “Was going to make bacon butties, but you haven’t any bacon, so it’s French toast instead.”

“You’re cooking.”

Spike gave him a look like Xander was the world’s biggest idiot.

“You’re cooking _naked_.”

Spike shrugged. “Haven’t a kit, have I?” He turned back toward the stove.

Xander dimly became aware that a thin voice was shouting. Oh. The phone. It was still in his hand. He put it to his ear. “Gali?”

“Who is Spike and why haven’t you mentioned him before?” she demanded. Oops. She’d obviously heard Xander’s brief conversation with him. “You didn’t just meet him, did you? ‘Cause if a one-night stand cooks for you the morning after, I say hold on to him!”

“No! He’s not a one-night stand!” Spike shot him an amused look over his shoulder. “He’s an old…an old friend, I guess. He showed up unexpectedly this morning.”

“And now he’s making dinner for you naked.” She laughed.

“It’s…it’s a really long story.”

“Now I know why you weren’t here to meet me, Watcher!” 

Xander sighed. “Look, why don’t you and the others take the night off? There’s nothing much going on in town right now anyway and I’m kinda tied up.”

Spike looked over his shoulder again and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Xander regretted his choice of words.

But Galiana just giggled. “Yeah, okay. I’ll tell the others. You have fun now, X!”

Xander set the phone down beside the couch and went to use the bathroom. When he came back, Spike had set a pair of plates onto the kitchen table and was just sitting down in one of the chairs. The kitchen was apparently still a clothing optional zone. “Eat while it’s warm,” Spike said, and dipped a forkful of battered bread into a mug of blood. Xander’s favorite mug, in fact, although that didn’t seem worthy of pointing out at the moment.

Xander looked at Spike, contentedly munching away, and he looked at the plate, where the food looked really tempting, swimming in butter and strawberry preserves. And smelled good, too. He hadn’t even been aware that he had butter and eggs and jam in the house. He sat opposite Spike.

“What’s with the domesticity?” Xander asked as he cut off a piece of toast. And then he put it in his mouth. “Holy Zeus! That’s good!”

Spike looked smug. “Haven’t had human food in…in ages.” For just a moment he looked distressed, and then his face cleared again. He bobbed his head in the direction of the living room. “Now you’re Rupert Junior?”

“I hardly ever wear tweed and I still suck at research, but yeah. There are three Slayers here and I’m sort of in charge. Sort of.”

Spike pointed his fork tines at him. “You mean they occasionally listen to you. When they feel like it.”

“Pretty much.” And then, since Spike seemed to be having a lucid spell, Xander added, “Spike, what’s going on with you?”

Spike took another bite of French toast. When he was done chewing, he said, “The world is too much with us; late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers. Little we see in Nature that is ours; we have given our hearts away, a sordid boon.”

“Okay, that’s a poem. I only got through English with Willow’s help, Spike. Hell, I only got through most of high school with Willow’s help. I’m outta my league here.”

Spike didn’t answer. Instead, he slurped at the last of his blood and then sat there for several minutes, somehow managing to look more naked than before. Finally, though, he looked at Xander. “White hat still on firmly. Won’t let it be undone, will you?”

“Let what be undone?”

“The layers touch. Like…like layers of a pastry, yeah? And sometimes they crumble. To dust. All dust and ashes.”

And Xander was lost again. But Spike looked suddenly so distressed that Xander decided to change the subject. “That was a good meal. Thanks. How about we try for some clothing?”

Spike looked down at himself, as if he’d forgotten he was nude, and then stood up and spread his arms wide. “Must show it all, show it all to you. Not a pretty picture.”

The fact was, although Spike was still much too thin, he’d filled out noticeably since his first appearance, and his skin was nearly back to its usual creamy perfection. A few more pints of vaca or porc and a little rest, and he’d be a very pretty picture indeed, Xander thought. “You’re looking better, Spike. Sparkly clean now.”

“No! Filth. Corruption. Can’t you see?” And, to Xander’s horror, he began to dig at his chest, his fingernails tearing ragged, bloody gouges.

Xander leapt up from his chair and grabbed Spike’s hands. “Stop that! Stop hurting yourself!”

Spike put up only a small struggle, then went limp, collapsing against Xander’s chest for the third time. “’M wrong. Dunno if it’s the spark that fouls me or the demon. The pieces don’t fit.” And then he began to cry, wailing into the crook of Xander’s neck.

Xander petted Spike’s smooth back until Spike sniffled and pulled away slightly. 

“Clothes?” Xander asked.

Spike nodded.

 

***

 

They watched DVDs.

Xander didn’t usually spend his evenings at home. Not that he was out nightclubbing or anything; usually he was backing up his Slayers and hoping that he made it through the night more or less intact. In fact, his social life was pretty much nonexistent, and he’d told himself he didn’t mind.

But this evening they sat together and watched _Indiana Jones_ —the first and second ones—and _The Birds_. They began at opposite ends of the couch, but as the evening wore on Spike somehow managed to inch himself closer until he was snuggled up against Xander. And snuggled was a strange word to use in reference to a vampire, but it was appropriate nonetheless. Spike wore a pair of Xander’s sweatpants and one of Xander’s old t-shirts, and the fabric was very soft when it brushed against Xander’s skin. Xander found himself not minding the closeness. He hardly ever touched someone, was hardly ever touched in return, and he hadn’t even realized how hungry he’d been for human contact. Well, almost-human contact.

By the time Melanie and Mitch drove off, Xander was dozing. Spike poked at his belly. “Film’s over.”

Xander dislodged himself and stood and stretched. “I’m wiped. But if you want to stay up—”

“No. I expect I could use more sleep as well. Haven’t slept so well in a long time.”

“I only have the one bed….”

Spike lifted his chin. “’T’s big enough for two, innit?”

It was.

Xander stripped down to his boxers, but Spike got completely bare again before climbing between the sheets—and then scooting over so he was half on top of Xander. “Warm,” he said sleepily.

Xander just lay there, unmoving. Finally, he said, “Um, Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re on top of me. Naked again. And I’m not as straight as I used to be.”

Spike rose up a little. It was too dark for Xander to see him, but no doubt Spike could see Xander very well. “You were always bent, ducks.”

“Yeah, okay. But now I’m _consciously_ bent. And you’re there, and your clothes aren’t, and uh—”

“No worries. Too tired to shag tonight.” And with a sniff of finality, Spike set his head back on Xander’s shoulder.

Xander lay awake a long time after that, feeling Spike’s soft hair and hard body, wondering what exactly Spike had meant by that last sentence.

[Chapter Four](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/260043.html)

 

 


	4. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

_  
**Refuge (4/14)**   
_

**Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  4 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

 **  
  
    
**

****

  


  
**Four: Settling In**   


Spike woke up three or four times during the night, each time screaming with fright and squashing himself against Xander, who soothed him back to sleep with pets and crooning that would have embarrassed him to death in the daylight. Xander didn’t ask what the nightmares were about. He didn’t want to know.

But when they both got out of bed around noon, Spike looked better than the day before. Still not quite his old self—not just because he was still so thin, but also because there was something wrong about the set of his shoulders. There was no graceful, hip-rolling prowl, no overblown confidence. He looked diminished, worn. It was unexpectedly heart-wrenching.

But Spike insisted on cooking again—this time wearing Xander’s sweatpants—and he managed to hold himself together long enough for Xander to run to La Boqueria. This time Xander came back with meat—ham and bacon and sausages—and fresh bread and all the brightest fruits he could find. And he had two paper cups of thick, pudding-like hot chocolate and a greasy paper bag full of xurros.

Spike didn’t eat any of the xurros but he did sip happily at his chocolate. He ended up with a little chocolate mustache that Xander found himself wanting to lick off, but then watched, mesmerized as Spike licked it off himself. If Spike noticed Xander’s preoccupation, he didn’t acknowledge it. Then Spike fried up about half a pig’s worth of meat and Xander ate until his stomach was uncomfortably tight and he felt like he could barely move.

Unfortunately, Spike’s domesticity did not extend to washing dishes. Xander decided the dishes could wait.

He and Spike ended up on the couch together again, half dozing and half channel surfing. Spike, as it turned out, understood both Spanish and Catalan and sometimes he translated, but Xander couldn’t tell if he was translating accurately or simply spouting multilingual lunacy. It didn’t matter anyway. Spike kept himself pressed firmly against Xander’s side…and Xander liked that.

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment when Spike got a case of wandering hands. The vampire had been sipping at a mug of blood, and when he put the empty cup down he set his hand lightly on Xander’s leg, just above the knee. That was fine. But at some point that hand began to move, first kneading lightly like a cat’s paw and then inching upwards and inwards along Xander’s thigh. Spike stared at the TV screen as if he were completely unaware of what he was doing.

Xander grabbed Spike’s wrist. “Don’t.”

Spike turned his head to frown at him. “Don’t what, pet?”

“With the almost-naughty touching.”

Spike bent his neck a little and looked at Xander through his eyelashes. The corner of his mouth was slightly curled. “Said you were bent.”

“Yeah, but I’m not…I’m not a _slut_ , Spike. And I don’t take advantage—”

Before Xander could finish, Spike moved lightning-quick, up and around so that he was straddling Xander’s lap, his crotch pressed against Xander’s. “’M a demon, Xander. You can’t take advantage of me.” He sort of undulated. “Can’t force me; I’m stronger than you. Can’t spoil me; ’m already corrupted. Can’t do anything to me that hasn’t been done a hundred times.” Spike was trying to leer, but that last sentence came out sounding choked, and Xander’s heart twisted. 

Instead of pushing Spike away, Xander wrapped his arms around Spike’s torso and held him close, held him tight. At first, Spike’s entire body was stiff and motionless, but then he melted, worming his arms around Xander as well and nestling his face into the crook of Xander’s neck. They remained like that a long time, both breathing slowly and evenly, the television babbling inanely in front of them. When Spike finally pulled away a little, he tilted his head to examine Xander’s face. “Don’t have to sing for my supper then?”

It took Xander a moment to decipher that, and then he swallowed bile and shook his head firmly. “What kind of a person do you think I am?” he asked angrily.

Spike reached up and gently stroked Xander’s cheek. “White hat. Wasn’t certain. You used to hate me.”

“I didn’t…. I don’t know if I ever really _hated_ you. I was afraid of you, Spike. And then, after the chip, well, you were mostly just really fucking annoying. There were a couple times I could have staked you, though—what you almost did to Buffy. The time you and Anya…. But when Buff was dead and Dawn needed someone really strong, you were there. And you fought for your soul, which was pretty damn amazing. So no, I never hated you.”

Spike smiled at him as if that was the nicest thing anyone had said to him. But then his brows drew together. “The Slayer, the Bit, they’re….”

“What?”

Spike’s jaw worked. “They’re all right?”

“Sure. Dawnie’s working for an advertising firm in Seattle. And Buffy’s in Cleveland.” 

Spike closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. Then he opened them again. “The others? The rest of the Scoobies?”

“Willow’s sort of Have Wand, Will Travel. She was in India last week. I forget where she is today. And Giles is back in Jolly Olde. He runs the Council, so he’s my boss.”

“Your demon girl?”

Xander swallowed noisily. “She’s dead, Spike. She died in Sunnydale. Didn’t anyone tell you? I think Angel knows.”

“Angel?” Spike said as if he’d never heard the name before. “Poof’s not gone to his final reward?”

“No, he’s still in LA. I know you guys haven’t seen each other since that lawyer thing—”

“Lawyer thing?”

“The…the battle. In LA. With, I don’t know, demon attorneys and dragons and gods and…and I only ever heard a short version of the story.”

Spike was looking at him as if Xander were the loony one. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

Great. Apparently amnesia was part of the Crazy-Spike package. Xander decided not to push it. “Look, if you want to hang with Angel instead, he’s offered to take you. Or Buff…I guess she could manage if we could—”

“No!” Spike said, clutching Xander’s arms. “Please. Don’t make me leave.”

And again, Xander found himself unaccountably pleased. “You can stay if you want, Spike. I was just giving you options. I know you got stuck with me before when you were…in trouble. But this time the others are willing—”

“No. I want you. Need you,” Spike said. “Please.”

“Now I know you really are nuts,” Xander said, trying to hide the way Spike’s words made him feel. “But fine.”

Spike gave him a broad, sunny smile. Then he twisted off Xander’s lap and snuggled himself back in against Xander’s side. “Give me the bloody remote, whelp.”

***

Even Xander could only spend so much time eating and watching TV. As darkness began to settle outside, he said, “I should call Gali and the others. We skipped patrol last night.”

Spike clutched his arm. “Can’t they go without you?”

“I guess so, but—”

“Please. With you gone there’s nothing to keep me here if the layers touch again.” Spike’s fingers dug into Xander’s skin.

“The layers.”

“Like pastry, yeah?”

“Oh. Those layers.” While Spike looked at him anxiously, Xander scratched at his beard stubble thoughtfully. He didn’t want Spike to freak out. And Spike accompanying them on patrol was a bad idea all around: even if Spike had been more compos mentis, Xander was in no mood to explain his vampire buddy to a trio of Slayers. But Xander didn’t much relish the idea of sitting at home like a useless lump. “What if…if I told the girls to go out on their own, but you and I did sort of a mini-patrol by ourselves.”

“Mini patrol?” At least Spike didn’t completely reject the idea at once.

“Yeah. Just sort of a stroll, really. We don’t have to kill anything. There are a fair number of shady characters around, but as long as the girls and I stay visible the semi-bad guys keep their noses fairly clean. Giles calls it preventive patrol. And I gotta say, having William the Bloody at my side is probably gonna add a whole lot of prevention value.”

Spike blinked in surprise. “You want me to help?”

“Sure. And I’d like to get out of the house for a little while, too.”

“They’ll still find me frightening?”

“You can be a pretty scary guy when you try. And I think you pretty much have an international reputation.”

“I do?”

“Yep. I’ve had friendly demons ask me about you. ‘Do you really know the vamp who saved the world?’ That kind of thing.”

“Saved the world?” Spike said, bewildered.

“Well, yeah. You wore the necklace. You were the Champion.”

Spike’s eyes went wide. “But I didn’t—” He stopped and swallowed. In a tiny voice, he said, “ _I_ wore the necklace?” He let go his grip on Xander’s arms and now his hands made fists on his lap.

“Yeah, Spike. You did. You wore it and you burned all the Neanderthal vamps to ashes. Thousands and thousands of them.”

“Did…did I burn as well?”

“You burned, too,” Xander said gently.

“Bloody _hell_!” Spike shook his head slowly. “And The First?”

“Gone. Probably not _gone_ gone, ’cause Giles says you can’t really destroy The First Evil. But out of our hair for a good long time, anyway.”

Spike stood and walked to the living room’s sole window. He pulled open the curtains that Xander had kept shut to avoid vamp flambé, and he gazed out at the building across the way, where laundry flapped and flowers bloomed on balconies. “ _I_ did this?” he asked with wonder. “I saved…everything?”

Xander came up behind him. “You did.”

Spike turned around and his face was lit with such joy that he almost glowed. Xander had never seen anything so beautiful in his life, and for a long moment he couldn’t even breathe. Then Spike embraced him again, not collapsing on him or trying to be sexy, just a strong hug and a murmured, “Thank you, Xander.”

***

They both decided that a vampire in sweatpants wasn’t going to inspire fear in anyone, so instead Spike wore a pair of Xander’s jeans. They were slightly too long and he had to cinch the waist tightly with a belt. He tucked a white undershirt into them and borrowed Xander’s spare pair of boots, which turned out to fit just right. Xander took a quick shower and shaved and dressed, and then they descended the stairs, Spike sticking close to Xander’s side.

But when they reached the bottom and stepped outside, Spike stopped, grabbing at Xander’s arm. “Cold.”

It wasn’t especially. A little chilly, maybe—Xander wore a light jacket—but he wouldn’t have thought the slight coolness would be a problem to the undead. “Do you want a coat?”

Spike nodded, and then waited just inside the door while Xander ran up the stairs again. Xander returned a few minutes later with his warm wool coat and a navy and gray scarf. Spike stood like a child while Xander wrapped the scarf around his neck and then helped button him into the coat. “Better?” Xander asked.

“Cheers,” Spike said with a small smile. Even with his bad haircut he looked devastatingly handsome. Xander had a strange, unexplained kink for men in scarves.

“Let’s go,” Xander said quickly. “Maybe since we’ll be out anyway we can get you some clothes of your own.”

Spike seemed agreeable enough to that idea. They walked side by side through the early evening crowds, Xander taking them through the twisty streets until they reached La Rambla. There were even more people there, and Spike pressed close against him. They passed two women with huge boobs and square jaws, and one of the women called something out to them in a deep voice. Spike called back to her in English: “Sorry, love. Not my type,” and he and Xander continued walking.

At Plaça Catalunya, the pigeons had clocked out for the night, but buses and bicycles and motorbikes still zoomed back and forth, and tourists took pictures in front of the fountain and munched on sandwiches. Xander led them diagonally across the square and they crossed the street onto Passeig de Gracia. Spike made faces at the clothing in the first few stores they passed, but then, a block past the photo-snapping hordes in front of Casa Batlló, he found one that suited his fancy. They went inside.

Spike had a long conversation with the handsome salesclerk, who nodded a lot and then scurried around the store, returning with armfuls of clothing in black. Xander and the clerk waited while Spike took the clothes into a dressing room. Hey, clothes shopping with William the Bloody. Nothing unusual about that.

The salesclerk smiled at him. “Your boyfriend is going to look fantastic. Molt maco.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No?” The clerk lifted an eyebrow and gave the dressing room door a predatory look. “Perdó. My mistake.”

Xander didn’t like that look at all. “Hey, I know, maybe you can find him something with actual color. Like that orange shirt,” he pointed to the far end of the store.

“Ah, no. That color will not suit his pell, his…complexion at all. But this….” He pulled a shirt off a nearby rack. It was silk, Xander guessed, and robin’s egg blue. “This will match his eyes perfectly, no?”

Xander didn’t want this guy noticing the color of Spike’s eyes. He practically snatched the hanger from his hand. “Fine.” He marched over to the dressing room and knocked on the door. “Try this one, too.”

The door opened a crack and a pale hand emerged. Xander gave him the shirt and the door shut again.

When Spike eventually came out, Xander forgot to breathe again and the salesclerk whistled and fanned himself. Spike was wearing black trousers, not jeans, and they fit him as if they’d been specially made for him. He had on the blue shirt, and the clerk had been right—it brought out his eyes. Aside from the haircut, Spike could have just stepped off a fashion runway or been posing for a magazine shoot. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at Xander. Xander turned to the clerk. “We’ll take it.”

They actually ended up buying several more outfits at the store as well, and Xander was a little nervous about the total. He had some money saved up, but not much. But when he went to pay, the bill was less than he expected. The clerk looked back and forth between Xander, who was holding out his MasterCard, and Spike, who was clutching bags in one hand and Xander’s arm in the other. “A descompte,” he said. “Because your not-boyfriend wears our goods so well.”

Spike smirked.

They left the store with Spike wearing his new pants and blue shirt; the clothing he’d borrowed from Xander was stuffed in a plastic sack. They found a shoe store nearby that carried some boots to Spike's taste. They were black, of course, but they weren’t Docs. These were a little sleeker, a little pointier in the toes. 

As they left the shop, Spike patted his borrowed coat. “I expect you’ll want this back.”

“Keep it if you like it. It looks better on you anyway.”

Spike grinned at him, his eyes sparkling. He looked stronger and more confident than he had since he arrived. He still didn’t look like the Spike Xander used to know—he retained an air of vulnerability, a slight tentativeness that made Xander feel protective. 

They made their way back down La Rambla. Xander spied a few demons he knew, skulking among the humans, but those demons took a quick look at him and Spike and scuttled away. Spike noticed them as well, and after some initial hesitancy, began sneering at them or lifting his lip in silent snarls. From the looks on their faces, Xander suspected at least some of them realized who Spike was. Their obvious fear put a spring in Spike’s steps and a smile on Xander’s face.

  
[Chapter Five](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/260205.html)

 

 

  



	5. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (5/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  5 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

 **  
  
  
**

  


  
**Five: Declarations and Revelations**   


Shop, eat, laundry, TV, patrol, bed. Not so different from the routine he’d been following for years, but now changed by Spike’s presence. Spike continued to do most of the cooking, and he was good at it, although he wouldn’t tell Xander how he’d learned. Xander did the washing up. They squabbled over the remote and called their evening strolls patrols, and at night Spike slept half on top of Xander, and Xander comforted him when he had nightmares.

Sometimes Spike seemed pretty sane, but at others he’d start babbling gibberish again, or spouting poetry, and sometimes he just threw himself into Xander’s arms and cried.

Five days after Spike arrived, Xander’s phone rang. It was Galiana. “I’m right outside your building, X, and if you don’t come let me in I’m gonna break this door in.”

Xander glanced over at his guest; Spike was reading a volume of poetry by some guy named Lorca. He had discovered a big bookstore two nights earlier. Xander chewed at his lip. “It’s really not a good time, Gali.”

“I’m about to kick the door in, Watcher.”

“Fine. Fine. Just give me a few, okay?”

“Five minutes and I’m the Big Bad Wolf.”

Xander rubbed at his face. “Uh, Spike?”

Spike looked up from his pages. “Yeah?”

“You know I’m a Watcher now, right?”

“So?”

“So I think my Slayers are wondering what the hell’s happened to me. One of them’s downstairs right now.”

“Tell her to bugger off.”

“And since when did you think a Slayer would listen to someone who told her to bugger off?”

Spike nodded. “Got a point there.”

“I’m gonna go let her in. Will you be okay?”

“Just a Slayer, innit?” Spike said, but he didn’t look very secure about the whole idea.

“Just a Slayer. And I’ll stick close, okay?”

Spike nodded again and closed his book.

Gali was frowning impatiently when Xander opened the door to the building. “Well, at least I know you haven’t been kidnapped by demons,” she said.

“Nope, no kidnappings. So you can leave now, right?”

She narrowed her eyes and looked up the stairway. “What’s up there, X?”

“It’s…nothing. My own private business.”

“You’re a Watcher. You don’t get no private business.” Then her eyes went wide. “It’s that man, isn’t it? The one-night stand.”

“He isn’t a one-night stand!” Xander argued, and then immediately realized his mistake.

Gali ran up the stairs. “Course not. It’s already been almost a week,” she called over her shoulder, laughing.

Needless to say, she beat him to his door by a wide margin. But the door locked automatically, so she had to wait until he let her in. She grinned hugely when she saw Spike, who was leaning against a wall in a way that might have been intended as casual, but was anything but. “Hola!” she chirped. “I’m Galiana.”

Spike shot Xander a desperate look, and Xander moved quickly to Spike’s side. “Gali, this is Spike.”

Her grin faded and then went away entirely, and she cocked her head. “Vampir!” she cried and pulled a stake from her back pocket.

Xander placed himself between the two of them, hands up. “Hang on! No dusting! Yes, he’s a vampire. But he’s on our side. This is _the_ Spike, Gali. You know, amulet-wearing hero?”

She wavered a moment and then let the hand with the stake drop. “Really?”

“Really. Look. He’s a friend, okay? A good friend. So would you please put the pointy wood away?”

She looked down at the stake for a moment, nodded, and then tucked it back in her pocket. Although he couldn’t see Spike, Xander relaxed quite a bit. He stepped back then, returning to Spike’s side. She stared at Spike, who wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Good friends, huh? I thought the story was all about Spike and Buffy, not you two.”

“Old story,” Spike muttered.

Xander considered telling Gali the truth—that Spike had come crawling to him for help. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say those words. Instead, he extemporized. “Spike, um, ran into a little trouble. But then I thought it’d be cool to have him here, with me. That way, you and the other girls can concentrate on one part of town while we keep our eyes open someplace else.”

“So you two aren’t a couple?”

Xander expected Spike to protest, but Spike remained silent.

Xander shook his head. “It really doesn’t matter whether we are or not, okay? He’s a friend and a strong ally. I’m glad he’s here. You and the girls probably won’t be seeing much of him, but when you do, I want you to play nice.”

She thought that over. “He’s cuter than that gilipolles you were seeing last year.”

Spike made an inquisitive sound and Xander glanced at him. “His name was Jedrik, he was pretty much a jerk, and he also turned out to be a Trinachus demon.”

Spike snorted.

Gali moved a cautious step closer. “The gossip says you and Angel had a thing, too, Spike, when you were in LA with him. That true?”

“Not bloody likely. When I was in LA with him I was having him tortured with hot pokers. Now, back when he was ’Gelus…but that was over a century ago.”

Galiana frowned. “Hot pokers? But Wolfram & Hart, right? And—”

“It’s a long story,” Xander interrupted. He didn’t necessarily want his Slayers to know about the amnesia and general psychosis. “So now that you know I’m not kidnapped or possessed or anything, don’t you have some patrolling to do?”

“It’s not even dark out yet.”

“Then…go sharpen some stakes.”

She looked like she might refuse and Xander gave her his steeliest glare. Which usually had no effect at all, but this time she grinned. “Bé. I’ll leave you to your private business.” And with a final giggle and wave, she was gone. 

Xander let out a long, shaky sigh. “Well, that wasn’t too awful.”

“You let her think we’re shagging.”

“If you want me to call and tell her the truth, I will. But I don’t know if she’d believe me anyway, and—”

“You don’t mind her thinking that?”

“She knows I’m bi, Spike. And if the Slayers think we’re a couple, they’re a little less likely to decide to try and stake you. Probably.”

Spike waved that comment away. “But you’re not…not ashamed of me?”

“No! Jesus, what’s to be ashamed of?”

“Demon. Lunatic. Wrong.”

Xander set his hand on Spike’s shoulder. “Clearly, demon status is not a problem for me. I wouldn’t even have cared that Jedrik was one, if he hadn’t been such an asshole. And the craziness—I’m guessing there’s a reason for it. I am not ashamed to be your friend, Spike.”

Spike’s eyes were shiny. “The worst solitude is to be destitute of sincere friendship.”

“Is that another poem?”

“No. Bacon.”

That didn’t make any sense either, so Xander ignored it. “I meant what I told her. You’re a good friend and good ally and I’m glad you’re here.”

It wasn’t a major shock when Spike embraced him. The kiss, though—that took Xander by surprise. And it was a nice kiss too, Spike’s lips soft against his and Spike’s fingers carding through Xander’s messy hair.

Xander pulled away when he had to breathe. “Spike…I told you, you don’t have to….”

“But I _want_ to,” Spike responded, pressing his groin against Xander’s, so that Xander could feel the very real evidence of Spike’s interest. “It’s been so long since I chose…. Please, Xan. You fancy me as well, don’t you?”

Xander had a very vivid image of himself with a tiny devil perched on one shoulder and a tiny angel on the other. Not Angel. In fact, both little guys looked like Spike. And while the one in red with the cute little horns was loudly urging Xander to go for it, the one with the halo and wings was sending very mixed messages. Because on the one hand, taking advantage of semi-incapacitated people was wrong. But on the other, Spike really seemed to want this, to need it.

Spike used Xander’s silence as an opportunity to kiss him again, and the devil cheered. The angel thought a minute, shrugged his shoulders, and then made an obscene gesture. Xander stopped caring as the kiss became deeper, Spike licking at the seam of Xander’s lips until he opened up and then their tongues were twisting together. Spike tasted of the chocolate he’d been drinking when Gali arrived, and although his mouth was cool at first, it soon warmed.

“Well?” Spike asked after several minutes.

“You’re a really good kisser.”

Spike chuckled. “Not all I’m good at.” He grabbed Xander’s hand and dragged him into the bedroom, then pushed him down gently onto their unmade bed. Xander watched as Spike slowly pulled off his shirt—he was wearing a plain black tee—revealing his perfect, nearly hairless skin and tight muscles. He’d been feeding heavily since he arrived and he was back in fine form. Which Xander knew, since they’d been sleeping together every night, but this was different somehow. Now Xander could ogle at will, and Spike only leered happily.

Next, Spike popped the button on his jeans and dragged the zipper down. He wiggled his hips a little and the jeans slipped partway down his hips, revealing the base of his cock’s shaft and a tantalizing bit of honey-colored curls. He stood there a moment, basking in Xander’s admiration, before finally slipping the pants down and off entirely in a way that was too graceful to be human. He didn’t wear underwear, although Xander had offered to buy him some. Maybe it was a vampire thing.

Xander had spent the last several days—not to mention the two times Spike had lived with him in Sunnydale—trying very hard not to notice how gorgeous Spike was. How his body held the exact right balance between power and elegance. How his nipples formed perfect pink peaks, like cherries on a sundae. How his ass—which was revealed now that he’d turned around—was round and so inviting that Xander’s hands clutched at the sight of it. How his cock—Spike had turned back to face Xander again—was uncut and long, and now that it was erect it stood proudly, the tip reddened by some sort of magic vampire means.

Now he could notice to his heart’s content. “Oh,” Xander said, because that was the best he could manage.

It was good enough for Spike, who curled his tongue behind his teeth and then knelt between Xander’s feet.

Spike’s hands were cool as he untucked Xander’s shirt and ran his palms over Xander’s chest and belly. It felt good, a nice counterpoint to the heat that seemed to be radiating from Xander’s core. When Spike slid his fingers down, tickling at the line of dark hairs on Xander’s abdomen, Xander hissed with pleasure. It had been a long time since anyone had explored his body like that, since he’d felt anyone’s touch but his own.

With a wicked smile that made Xander’s toes curl, Spike unfastened Xander’s jeans. Xander was wearing underwear—boxers, in fact—but Spike stuck his hand into the fly and fished out Xander’s already aching cock. “Lovely, pet,” he purred. 

What kind of man didn’t like having his equipment admired? Especially by a naked, beautiful demon who was kneeling in front of him, sharp tongue peeking out between plump lips.

Thus far, Xander had kept his hands at his sides, but now he brought them forward and touched the uneven curls on Spike’s head. Spike leaned into the touch like a cat and rested his cheek on Xander’s thigh. It occurred to Xander that Spike might have gone without gentle caresses much longer than Xander had. As Xander stroked Spike’s scalp, Spike tickled his fingertips up and down Xander’s cock, tracing the veins, pressing gently here and there as if it were an instrument and he a musician.

And then he moved his head a little and kissed the tip of Xander’s cock, almost reverently, and Xander almost came right then. “Spike,” he said, surprising himself with how choked he sounded. “Not gonna last long.”

Spike grinned up at him. Then he stood and stretched and looked expectantly at Xander. “Kit off.”

Xander scrambled to obey. He almost tore his t-shirt as he yanked it off, and then he tossed it into the corner. His jeans removal was much less graceful than Spike’s, but he got them off and his boxers too, and then he actually blushed a little as Spike raked his eyes slowly up and down Xander’s body. “Kept yourself fit,” Spike observed.

“Running from monsters is excellent exercise. Cardio and muscular workout all at once.”

“But there are more fun ways to work out,” Spike said, and basically threw himself on top of Xander, knocking Xander back onto the mattress.

Spike spent a long time after that tracing his fingers over every bit of Xander’s skin, tickling here, petting there, keeping Xander poised precisely on the edge of pleasure and frustration. Xander’s caresses of Spike were less delicate, but he learned that Spike would gasp if his nipples were tweaked, or lean in close if Xander spread a palm over his unbeating heart. He learned that Spike’s ass was smooth with strong muscles flexing beneath, and the skin at the top of Spike’s cleft was as soft as velvet. When Spike turned around and straddled Xander’s body, putting that wonderful ass within easy reach, Xander learned what Spike tasted like—copper and salt—and learned that Spike’s tongue could do devilish things to Xander’s balls and the crease where his leg met his torso.

Just when Xander was positive he couldn’t hold off his climax any longer—and too far gone to care—Spike stopped and climbed off. “Slick?” he asked.

Xander couldn’t speak—he just pointed to his bedside table. Spike opened the drawer and pulled the bottle out. He handed the bottle to Xander and then climbed back on board, again straddling Xander and presenting his ass.

“Guh,” Xander managed to say.

Spike wiggled. With some difficulty—his hands were shaking with excitement—Xander managed to get the bottle uncapped, and a little of the lube drizzled onto his finger. He pressed the slippery finger hesitantly against Spike’s pink hole. Spike growled a little and pushed back. “Don’t need to be so sodding gentle about it, love. The others didn’t even bother—” He cut himself off abruptly.

“Spike, are you sure you want to do this?” Xander really didn’t want to kill the mood, but he didn’t want Spike forcing himself either. “You know, I’ve bottomed a few times and—”

“Please!” Spike said, impaling himself fully on Xander’s finger. “I’m choosing this with you. It’s not…. Please.”

Xander wasn’t about to argue. But he took his time preparing Spike, easing the tight muscles loose, making sure there was plenty of lube, until Spike was writhing atop him and demanding more and harder. 

And then it must have occurred to Spike that he was on top, because he withdrew himself and, before Xander could reposition, turned around, grabbed Xander’s more than willing cock, and lowered himself onto it.

“Merciful Zeus,” Xander moaned. It had been nearly a decade since he’d admitted to himself that he was as attracted to men as he was to women. In those years he hadn’t had many sexual experiences with either gender. Gali and the others sometimes called him El Monjo—The Monk. And when he did hook up with someone, he had always used a condom. So the sensation of being buried deep in another man was still fairly novel, and to have bare skin rubbing inside Spike’s tight channel was almost more than he could bear.

But not quite.

Spike waited a moment to accustom them both to being coupled, and then began to move up and down, flexing his thighs ever-so-slowly so that he slid almost all the way off Xander—but not quite—and then all the way back down. “You feel bloody lovely inside me,” he panted. “Hot. Big.”

Xander wanted to reply that inside Spike was a very fine place to be, but he couldn’t quite seem to control his vocal cords. So he decided to show his appreciation instead: he grasped Spike’s cock and smeared the bit of precome down the shaft before stroking in tandem with Spike’s movements. Spike must have liked that very much. He groaned and threw back his head and sped up.

After that, Xander pretty much lost track of everything except the incredible feeling of Spike around his dick, and the equally incredible sight of Spike above him, mouth open and eyes closed, riding him as if his unlife depended on it. Spike’s rhythm became jerky and uneven, he cried out brokenly, and his spend squirted out over Xander’s hand and shot onto Xander’s chest. After a few more thrusts Xander let go of Spike’s cock and grabbed his hips, and then Xander was calling out as well.

Spike collapsed forward onto Xander’s sticky chest and they lay together for a long time, until Xander’s breaths and heartbeat had evened out. Then Spike climbed off Xander with a wet, squishy noise and curled himself into Xander’s side. “Lovely, pet,” he sighed.

“Ung,” Xander agreed. Apparently the blood flow hadn’t quite corrected itself yet. And given the amount of snuggling they’d been doing since Spike arrived, Xander wasn’t especially surprised that Spike was a major post-coital cuddler. Xander didn’t mind. In fact, it felt so nice for Spike to be up against him, toying idly with Xander’s chest hairs, that Xander decided that the cleaning up could wait. He could endure drying lube and flaking semen in exchange for a nice embrace.

Xander was half-asleep when Spike roused him by tweaking his right nipple. “Pet?”

“Yeah?”

“Your Slayer—what did she mean about me and Peaches in LA? And you said something once—some nonsense about a dragon and lawyers.”

Xander sighed. It’s not that he’d expected to cure Spike’s insanity with one good screw, but he’d hoped for…improvement. “Angel got mixed up with these evil lawyer guys and you helped him fight them. It was a big deal. You averted another apocalypse, I think.”

Spike rose up on one elbow. “When?”

“Not long after Sunnydale.”

“But…but you said I dusted there.”

“You did. You got…resurrected, I guess. I don’t know the details. Angel could fill you in if you want to call him.”

Spike sat up completely. “You mean I’m still here?” He sounded less than pleased about it, which mystified Xander.

Xander patted one of Spike’s bare knees. “Of course you’re here. In the undead but still mighty tasty flesh.”

“Then where am I?”

Xander sat up too and moved his hand to Spike’s shoulder. “You’re in Barcelona, Spike. In my small but oh-so-convenient apartment in El Born. In my bed. And, uh, I’m Xander Harris.” He added the last part in case Spike had forgotten more than usual.

“I know who you are, git. You just shagged me.”

Xander grinned with relief. “Well, see? I’ve shagged demons more than once but never ones that weren’t there.”

Spike rolled his eyes impatiently and shoved Xander back down before returning to his usual position half on top of Xander. Although it meant Xander tended to wake up with his arm asleep, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. They both wiggled around a little, getting more comfortable, and Spike’s breaths slowed and then stopped.

Just as Xander was dropping into the Land of Nod himself, the fucking doorbell rang. 

He ignored it the first three times. Someone else could let Jaume in this time. But then it wheezed a fourth time, more insistently than before, and Xander groaned.

Spike looked at him. “Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,” he said.

“Thanks,” Xander sighed and climbed out from underneath Spike and off the bed. He stumbled around for a moment before finding his sweatpants and a t-shirt, and the whole time the bell kept up its din.

The stairway was dark—lights on the fritz again—and cold, and Xander wanted to be back in his warm bed with his warmed vampire, and not tromping down 80 steps and then having to tromp right up them again. So by the time he hit the entrance vestibule he’d worked up a pretty good head of steam, and he hadn’t even yanked the door all the way open before he was growling, “What the hell do you want?”

“Now, is that any way to greet an old mate?” smirked his visitor.

It was Spike.

[Chapter Six](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/260665.html)

 

 

  



	6. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (6/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  6 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

 **  
**

 **Six: Confusion**

Xander’s first instinct was to slam the door shut. Which he did.

“Oh, come on, whelp. Soul’s still intact. Do I have to threaten to huff and puff?” The voice on the other side of the door sure sounded like Spike’s. 

Xander blinked a few times and pinched himself, but if this was a dream, he didn’t wake up. Slowly, cautiously, he opened the door again.

It was still Spike.

He wore black jeans and a black tee and his old black duster. His hair was bleached brightly and slicked back, and he was holding a lit cigarette to his lips. He blew a cloud of smoke in Xander’s direction. “I can come into the common area without an invite, you know. Wouldn’t be very polite, though.”

Xander’s mouth finally managed to work. Sort of. “How…what…but you…how….”

“I know my beauty is breathtaking, Harris, but you’ve seen it before.”

A high-pitched hysterical laugh escaped before Xander pressed his fist against his mouth. Yeah, he’d been seeing plenty of that beauty lately. Then he narrowed his eyes as a thought struck him. “You’re not really Spike. You’re something pretending to be him. Oh fuck! The First!”

 “If I was The bloody First would I be able to do this?” Spike reached up and flicked a finger on Xander’s forehead. It stung.

“Okay. Not The First. Shapeshifter then.”

Spike sighed melodramatically. “Right then. You used to sing Patsy Cline songs in the shower. And before you went to bed you always checked the lock on the door between your crap basement and the upstairs. Twice.”

Nobody knew those things except Anya and Spike. But this didn’t make any sense. “What are you doing here?” Xander demanded.

“Heard some odd rumors. Came to investigate.”

“What sort of odd rumors?”

“Can we discuss this indoors? With alcohol?”

Alcohol suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. Xander stood aside as Spike flicked away his cigarette butt and entered the building. Spike clomped alongside him up the stairs—the Docs were back. “Don’t rate high enough on the Watcher scale for a flat with a lift?” he asked on the second floor.

“I like this place. It has character.”

Spike snorted. “It was crumbling long before I was born.”

Xander paused when he reached his own door. “Um, just a sec.”

Spike grinned. “You got a girl in there, Xander Harris? Maybe someone you don’t want the Scoobies to find out about?”

“There’s no girl, Spike.” 

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Bloke, then?”

Xander wasn’t sure what was in there, actually. “Just wait, okay?”

Spike shrugged.

Xander unlocked the door and then shut it again in Spike’s face. With his heart racing and his breath held, he ran into the bedroom. Where he found Spike blinking sleepily at him from his bed. “Who was it, love?”

“Oh, shit,” Xander said, and his legs gave out.

Things were confusing for a few minutes after that. The room was spinning and Spike—naked, post-shagging Spike—was helping him to his feet and fussing at him and asking him whether he needed a glass of water or hospital, and then there was an insistent pounding at the door. “Who the bloody hell is that?” Spike hissed. He sounded like Spike. He felt like him, too.

Xander cackled. He was crazier than Spike. Maybe the crazy was contagious.

“Pet?” Spike asked with concern and there was more loud knocking.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna let him in,” Xander said shakily.

“Let _who_ in?”

“I have no fucking idea. Pants?”

Spike gave him the sort of pitying look reserved for hopeless lunatics and shook his head. He found his jeans, pulled them on, and started buttoning up.

Xander walked to the front door and opened it. Still Spike. “Did you stash him in the cupboard yet?” he smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

Xander took a deep breath. “You can come in now.”

Spike sauntered in and looked around the place. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something snarky. But just then Spike entered from the bedroom. There was a long, long silence. Xander could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

Then Spike—the half-dressed version—sank to his knees beside Xander and bowed his head all the way to the floor. “God, please, don’t send me back. Please, Xander!”

Xander had no idea how to react. Neither did the other Spike, at least at first, but then he let loose with a long and multilingual string of curses. “You’ve made yourself a bloody robot!” he finally said when he ran out of swear words.

“I did not!”

“Didn’t know you ached for me so badly, Harris.”

“I didn’t! He’s real! I think,” Xander added a little doubtfully. 

While one Spike remained hunched miserably on the floor, the other shook his head angrily. “I was in Sarajevo and about to dust a nest of vamps when they said they’d heard I was in Spain. Dusted them anyway and didn’t think much of it, until the next night when a Q’rinto demon said the same. So I came here to see what was what, and the locals start asking me where Harris is. ‘Never see you without him,’ they said. So, what? You fancied me as a sex slave?”

“No!” Xander rubbed his head, which was aching. “You just— _he_ just showed up, and I thought he was you, and—”

“And you fucked him,” Spike interrupted, sniffing the air and making a face.

“Okay, the smelling people thing? Eww. And I didn’t just—” Xander looked down at the crouching Spike and realized he was trembling. Whoever or whatever he was, he was either terrified or doing a pretty good imitation of it. And Xander had come to care for him. A lot. The fact that something really weird was going on didn’t change that.

Xander shot the standing Spike a glare and then knelt beside the other one. “Hey,” he said. “It’s okay. Don’t.”

Spike looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Please. Don’t send me back. Just dust me, yeah?” 

“I’m not sending you anywhere, and no dusting.”

The kneeling Spike shuddered. “I can stay?”

“Yeah, of course. C’mon. Stand up.” Xander tugged on his arm until Spike was standing beside him. In fact, Spike scooted slightly behind Xander, putting Xander between himself and his doppelganger. Xander turned a little to look at him. “Who are you?”

“Between the essence and the descent falls the shadow.”

While Xander tried to puzzle that out, the other Spike huffed. “For Christ’s sake! It’s not even a good copy of me. I’d never quote Eliot.”

“Shut up,” Xander said to him, then turned back to the other Spike. He put his hands on that Spike’s shoulders. “Come on. In words that I can understand. Who are you?”

It almost seemed as if he might get an answer, but then the new Spike stomped forward, and the scared Spike simultaneously cowered back and vamped out. New Spike froze. “Bloody hell,” he said. “Robot can’t do that.”

“I told you he’s not a fucking robot!” Xander snapped. His headache was getting worse.

“Then what is it?”

“He’s a he, not an it.”

“Then he’s an imposter. No worries—I’ll end him.”

“No!” Xander yelled as one Spike stepped forward and the other whimpered and pressed himself back against the wall. “Knock it off! You’re scaring him.”

New Spike stopped and cocked his head. “You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you? You sorry sod!”

Xander took a deep breath and, when that didn’t help, two more. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to sit down and figure out what the hell is going on, and there will be no threatening, begging, or dusting. Got it?”

He received a stereo, “Yeah.”

The Spikes eyed each other warily as they moved towards the couch. Half-dressed Spike sat on the couch next to Xander, their knees pressed together, while the new Spike pulled an armchair opposite them and draped himself in it. He pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his duster and shook one out, but when Xander frowned he sighed and tucked it away again.

“Okay,” Xander said. “So Spike—um, you.” He pointed at the vampire in black. “You were in Sarajevo and you have no idea what’s going on.”

“Not a bloody clue.”

“Right. So this Spike,” he patted the knee next to him, “showed up several days ago. He was…he was in bad shape.”

“In bad shape how?” newer Spike asked with narrowed eyes.

“Starved. Weak. Frightened.”

“So you shagged him.”

“No!” Xander sighed. “I mean, not right then. I fed him. I—”

“Put the pieces back together,” the Spike next to him interrupted. “Humpty dumpty.”

“He’s been sort of…confused,” Xander explained. “And he can’t remember a lot of stuff. Anyway, I thought he was you. I talked to Buffy and Angel and they were clueless too. But he seemed happy here, so he stayed.”

“And then you shagged.”

Before Xander could answer, his Spike muttered, “Lovely shag. Best I’ve had in decades. His demon girl was right.”

“Demon girl?” the other Spike asked.

“Viking in the sack, she said.”

“So she did,” responded Spike.

Xander blushed. He could easily imagine Anya uttering those words. “See? He knows stuff like that. Stuff _you_ know.”

“Well, he’s not me, is he? Genuine article here.”

They didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. One Spike was glaring, the other was hanging his head and slumping his shoulders, and Xander had at least three jackhammers going in his skull. He stood. “Be right back.”

He went into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of Damm. Which was, he reflected, an especially appropriate beer choice for the moment. He also got out a carton of blood—it was vaca, which Spike preferred to porc, and after hesitating for a moment, filled two mugs with it. He zapped the mugs in the microwave for a few seconds and then carried the beverages back into the living room. The Spikes hadn’t moved. He handed each of them a mug, sat within touching distance of his Spike, and twisted the top off his bottle.

“L’chaim,” said the Spike in the chair before taking a swig of his blood. The other Spike just sipped at his. Xander downed half his beer at once and wished he had something stronger.

“So he does a good impression of a vampire, then,” Spike said. “Even smells like me.”

Xander turned to his Spike, and in a soft and reasonable voice asked, “Can you explain? I promise—whatever you say, I won’t kick you out.”

Spike chewed at his lip. “Whatever I say?”

“Yep.” Xander hoped he didn’t regret the pledge.

“I’m…I am a vampire.”

“Yeah. Figured,” Xander said.

“Of sorts. Piss-poor one.” Xander’s Spike hunched in on himself. He whispered, “I am Spike. Or I was once. Now…I’m nothing.”

He sounded so sad that Xander couldn’t help but fling an arm around his shoulders, even though the other Spike rolled his eyes. “You’re not nothing,” Xander assured him.

“Well, he’s not me,” the other Spike insisted. “’M not a complete ponce.”

“He’s not a ponce, Bleachboy. I think something really awful happened to him.”

“No excuse. Loads of horrible things have happened to me and I haven’t turned into a sniveling nancy-boy.”

“He’s neither, and need I remind you of the lame suicide attempts after the chip? Or the general crazy-in-the-basementness?”

The new Spike scowled. The other Spike mumbled, “Bloody awful Hawaiian shirt.” Xander finished his beer.

“And see, that’s the thing,” Xander said, putting his bottle down. “That’s why I figured you—he—came to me. Because I’ve been your refuge before, right? So I thought, Spike’s in trouble again, kinda mixed up in the brain, so he turns to me.”

“Have to be mixed up in the brain to turn to you,” Spike said, and Xander was gratified when his own Spike snarled.

“He’s a better man than we’ve ever been,” his Spike said. “What were we before Dru gave us demon strength? Scribbler. Coward. Mama’s boy. Virgin.”

“Oi!” the other Spike protested.

Xander managed not to laugh. “Is that true? You were a virgin when you died?”

His Spike nodded. The other one worked his jaw and then nodded as well. “Wasn’t that unusual for the time, you know. Victorian.”

“And prior to this minute, who knew that except you?”

“Dru,” Spike said. “’Gelus.”

“And the Spike next to me is neither of them, so he must be you,” Xander concluded.

“That’s bloody impossible! I’m right here!”

“Maybe it’s a spell. Hey! You didn’t meet up with Toth, did you?”

“Slayer and her boytoy killed him.”

“Oh, right,” Xander said and was glad. If Spike had been split into two entities he’d no doubt want to be reassembled, and Xander wasn’t eager to give his half up.

“Look, I stay clear of mojo. Nobody’s replicated me.”

Xander turned to his Spike. “Can you explain? Please? Before my head falls off?”

“Layers,” his Spike said.

“What?” asked the other Spike.

Xander answered. “It’s a pastry metaphor. Spike, can you do a little more explaining besides that?”

“’T’s all wrong for me. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, and every tongue brings in a several tale, and every tale condemns me for a villain.”

“Richard the Third,” the other Spike said.

Xander’s Spike nodded. “They won’t stop. The spark—but you burned, not me. I wasn’t enough for it, was I? Never enough.”

Xander remained unenlightened. But the other Spike put his mug down and stood, and slowly—maybe so as not to frighten—approached the couch. He knelt in front of his twin, who leaned more tightly against Xander. “The spark, mate?” he asked.

Xander’s Spike placed a palm on his own chest. “Hurts.”

“So you’ve a soul.”

“A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,” Xander’s Spike agreed softly.

“But you didn’t burn?”

Xander’s Spike looked up, into the other’s eyes, his own face a picture of misery. “I wasn’t her champion,” he said in a whisper.

The other Spike looked as if he’d been shot. He collapsed down so he was sitting on his heels and spent several minutes blinking, open-mouthed. Now both Spikes had matching expressions of anguish, and Xander was still lost. 

“Uh, Spike?” he said, and they both turned to look at him. Xander pointed at the new one. “You. You’ve figured it out, haven’t you? I guess nobody’s more qualified than you to translate the crazy.”

That Spike held up a hand. “Just a mo’.” He put the hand on his counterpart’s leg, and Xander’s Spike didn’t even flinch. “Who wore it, mate?”

“Angel.”

“Naturally. And then?”

“Didn’t work, did it? They all died. Dead and gone.”

Both Spikes made wounded sounds. The Spike in black had to blink back tears before he went on. “What happened?”

“So many of them. So many. Like grains of sand on a beach. Couldn’t stop them. And they wouldn’t dust me, the bastards!” His voice rose into a wail at the end of the last sentence and he buried his face in Xander’s neck.

The new Spike didn’t make fun of him. “What did they do to you, love?”

“They keep me. Animal in a cage. Poke it with a stick, see it growl and cry. Object lesson. Learn your manners: it’s what comes of being a greedy boy, wanting….” He began to sob in earnest then, and Xander embraced him. To Xander’s surprise, the new Spike stroked his twin’s arm soothingly.

“How’d you get here?” the new Spike asked.

Xander's Spike looked up. “Wished upon a star.” Then he turned his face back against Xander’s damp shirt.

The new Spike sighed and stood. “You have any booze?”

“Just another beer or two. But explanations first!”

Spike nodded reluctantly. “I think he is me. Or some version of me anyhow.”

“And?”

“I think he’s from…an alternate reality, I expect.”

“Oh.” Xander remembered, with a shiver, the vampire version of Willow—and with a bit of a twinge, because vampire Willow was kind of hot.

“In his version, the Slayer gave the poof the amulet instead.”

“Oh!” Xander exclaimed, light finally dawning. “Oh, shit! And they—we—we lost.”

“Yeah, I reckon so. And he was captured. Kept as a…an oddity by The First and its crew. The vampire with a soul.”

“Oh, shit,” Xander repeated. “A decade with that thing—”

His Spike looked up at him. “More than a decade. Much, much more. Time crumbles things.” He said it very matter-of-factly, but Xander’s heart twisted and he kissed Spike’s soft hair.

“Can I stay?” Spike whispered.

“Of course! I promised, didn’t I? You’re going back over my dead body. Anyway, it’s not like I have a magic wand to zap you back.”

“Just wish on a star,” his Spike said.

“Well, I won’t.”

Spike sighed against him.

The other Spike had observed this interchange carefully. “You really care for the sod, don’t you?” he said. Xander thought he sounded a little wistful.

“I guess I do.”

Spike nodded and stood. “Right then. I’ll be off.” He started walking to the door. But he wasn’t stalking or stomping, and the entire set of his body was strikingly familiar to Xander, because it was just like his own Spike’s. Tired. Slightly lost, maybe.

Xander cleared his throat. “Um, Spike?” His own looked up at him and the other one paused at the door. They both said, “Yeah?”

“Spike from my reality. Do you want to stay a while? If there’s nothing important going on in Sarajevo. ’Cause there are probably still some questions that maybe Giles could help us clear up, and you seem to understand…well, you…a lot better than I do.

 “That’s okay with you, isn’t it?” he added for his own Spike’s benefit, and the Spike who was practically in his lap nodded.

The other Spike lifted his chin. “You’ve room for both of us?”

“Well, we’ll have to work out some sleeping arrangements, but sure.” Xander suddenly had a very vivid picture of being the filling in a Spike sandwich. He got rid of the picture immediately. Bad, bad picture.

But maybe Spike could read minds, because he lifted his scarred eyebrow. But then he smiled and ducked his head exactly like Xander’s Spike sometimes did. “I reckon I can lend a hand for a bit,” he said.

[Chapter Seven](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/261080.html)

  


 

   
 


	7. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (7/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  7 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

 **  
  
  
**

  
**Seven: Telling**   


“Okay. So the first thing is that my head is gonna explode unless we figure out a system with your name.”

Both Spikes looked at him in confusion. “What?” said one, and the other, “What’s in a name?”

“Yeah—Shakespeare. Even I got that one. The thing is, if I have to live with two vampires named Spike, pretty soon I’m gonna be nuttier than either of you.”

The Spikes looked at each other for a minute. And then the nearer one—the one with the bad haircut and no shirt—leaned his head against Xander’s. “You can call me William.”

The other Spike looked surprised, then shrugged.

“William,” Xander said, tasting the name on his tongue. “Good. Bill? No. Will? Yeah, maybe.”

His Spike—no, William—didn’t argue. He chuckled. “A vampire by any other name—”

“—would taste as sweet,” Xander finished for him, and kissed his head again.

Across the room, Spike snorted. “Ponces.”

Xander stood and stretched. “You know what? It’s late by human standards and I’ve just had the most confusing evening ever. Plus sometime in the next 24 hours some of us are gonna have to explain the two of you to my Slayers and Buffy and Giles and Willow and…and it exhausts me just thinking about it. I’m gonna turn in. Spike, the couch is all yours. There’s extra blankets and stuff in the closet.”

Spike frowned. “How come I get the sofa?”

“It’s better than a chair or the bathtub.”

Xander used the bathroom and got into bed. He left the door open, though, and before he fell asleep he heard the vampires talking quietly.

“—you’re letting Droopy shag you as the price of room and board?” said one voice, which must have been Spike’s.

“Nothing droopy about him,” William answered. “And don’t pretend we didn’t fancy an eyeful or two of him back in his basement.”

Spike sputtered and Xander grinned to himself.

William went on, “Besides, was my idea. Had to beg him.”

“But why? You didn’t get buggered enough—”

“I was _fucked_ plenty,” William interrupted angrily. “Used. A sodding blow-up doll for the minions, a doll that screamed his throat raw and bled pretty crimson rivers. I _chose_ Xander. He’s mine. He gave me back myself.”

As Xander tried to choke back tears, there was silence in the living room. A few minutes later William came padding in. Xander feigned sleep as William shed his jeans, but when William climbed into bed with him, Xander immediately spooned around his back and nuzzled at the tender nape of his neck.

“Sorry, sorry,” William said. “Didn’t mean…. ‘T’s always a one-way street, yeah? I mustn’t be greedy. You needn’t say it. Just keep me and that’s enough.”

“It’s _not_ enough, Will.”

William froze for a moment and then squirmed around to face him. In the greenish glow from the alarm clock Xander could see he looked stricken. “Frightened you away. Can’t help my mouth. Sorry. Please, just forget—”

“I’m not frightened and I won’t forget. Look, you’ve only been here a few days and your head’s not too clear now. But…I’ve never belonged to anyone before. Not really. And…it sounds kinda good.” It did, too. Like his heart had been hanging on a thin string for a very long time, and someone had finally cradled it safely in hand.

William stared at him, disbelieving. “’S okay, Xan. You needn’t lie for me. I’ve no heart to break, have I?”

“I’m not lying. Will, I’m not exactly Announcing His Feelings Guy. God, would have saved me a lot of grief if I was. But back when I hurt Anya I promised myself I would always be honest with…with people I care about. I think I’d like to be yours.”

William stared at him for a few moments and then reached up to stroke Xander’s cheek. “I can be your refuge as well? Safe from the storms’ and prelates’ rage.”

Xander sniffed in as manly a way as he could. “Yeah.”

And William nodded. “You gave me myself. Now I’m giving me back to you.”

Xander had no pretty poetry to respond with, so he kissed William instead. And yes, they'd had sex not so long ago, but now they made love. There was no penetration this time apart from lips and tongues, just skin slipping against skin and muscles and bones meeting up against muscles and bones. Hands joined together, bodies rocking in tempo, swallowed sighs and muffled moans. They both grew slick with Xander’s sweat and the room filled with their combined scents. Xander tried to silence his noises against William’s neck, and William tried to do the same—or maybe he just liked having his mouth on Xander’s throat. But Xander knew Spike could hear them anyway, and after a while he stopped caring. Stopped caring about much of anything except what touches would make Will shudder against him like that, and whether there was any possible way to move in closer, tighter, and yes, just like this, and this, and like _this_.

Xander fell asleep with his nerves still tingling pleasantly.

***

The butcher at La Boqueria didn’t bat an eye when Xander doubled his usual blood order. Christ knew what the guy thought the one-eyed American was doing with all the stuff. Satanic rituals? Enough blood sausage and blood pudding to feed Catalonia? Apparently he didn’t care. In fact he smiled at Xander and threw in a package of unidentifiable animal parts for free.

Back at home, Xander managed not to blush when Spike leered at his very noticeable hickey. They both sat at the kitchen table, watching William cook something he referred to as a proper fry-up. It occurred to Xander that he was going to have to acquire a third chair. He didn’t mind.

Spike sprawled back in his. “So what do the two of you do, aside from shagging?”

“Preventative patrol,” Xander answered.

“Which is…?”

“Um, basically walking around and looking scary.”

“You’re not actually killing anything?”

Xander shrugged. “Not so much. The girls have that part under control, and I’ve been sort of keeping away from them this week.”

Spike poked his finger in William’s direction. “Keeping him away, you mean.”

“I guess. They know about him now—well, they think he’s you, because so did I at the time. God, my head’s gonna start hurting again.”

“Once you tell them about me—”

“Today.”

“Fine. And you tell the Scoobies.”

Xander winced. “That’s gonna be fun.”

“And Peaches.”

“How about you do that part?”

Spike shrugged. “Fine. Then what would you think about three on patrol instead of two? And perhaps a bit more mayhem.”

Xander considered that. He’d seen Spike fight plenty of times and he knew how good he was. The thought of _two_ vampires at his side—well, that was a pretty good thought. Comforting. Not that he didn’t trust his Slayers, but one of them was pretty green, and the others, well, if it came down to it, he wasn’t positive they’d choose his hide over their own. Not that he really blamed them—as far as they were concerned, he was the old guy who nagged them. And who was replaceable if he became monster chow. On the other hand, Xander had the feeling he could trust both Spike and William to watch his back carefully.

Xander turned to William, who was setting three plates on the table. He stood and offered his chair, which William took with a smile. “What do you think, Will?”

“I haven’t…. It’s been ages since I’ve done anything but cower.”

“You feeling up to getting in touch with your inner Big Bad?”

William looked down at his plate and then up again with a small grin. “Might do,” he said.

***

Xander picked up his phone as if it might bite him. Hell, the way his life was going, it just might. But it remained mercifully chomp-free as he pushed the little numbers and then held it to his ear. William sat close to him on the couch again, while Spike was on the chair, a smirk just starting at the corners of his mouth.

“Hello?” came the familiar voice at the other end.

“Hi, Willow. How’s the magic biz these days?”

“Bewitching. And the Watcher business?”

“Eye-opening.” It was an old joke between them, but comfortable. “Hey, Willow, can you do that thing where you hook other people up to our call? I have news to share and I’d rather do it once.”

“That doesn’t take magics, Xander. You just have to push the right buttons to set up a conference call.”

“Nonetheless, I’ll leave it in your able fingers. Buffy and Giles, please.”

“’Kay.” She sounded doubtful. “It’s not something awful is it? ‘Cause if it is I want you to just rip the Band-Aid off and tell me now.”

“It’s nothing awful,” he assured her. “It’s…good, mostly. Weird but good.” When Xander said that, William rewarded him with a bright smile, and that distracted him so much he almost didn’t notice when the others joined the conversation.

“Xander? Are you there?” Giles was annoyed. But then, he often was.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Then can we hurry this up? I’m afraid there have been some troubling portents lately and I must attend to them.”

Xander took a deep breath. “Okay. Buffy, you know about my Spike situation, right? Did you tell the others?”

“Yep. God, he hasn’t tried to eat you, has he?”

Xander suppressed hysterical laughter. “Um, no.” Clearly, both of the vampires in the room could hear the entire conversation, because they chuckled evilly in tandem. “So, here’s the thing, guys. It turns out Spike isn’t exactly Spike.”

For the next half hour or so he explained the situation as best as he could, including handling multiple questions and interruptions from his friends, and occasional semi-helpful interjections from Spike and William. William’s comments tended to be in iambic pentameter.

When Xander was finally finished telling his tale—minus the X-rated parts—there was a long, multinational silence. It was Giles who finally broke it. “So what are you intending to do now?”

“William’s staying here with me,” Xander said firmly, and William smiled and squeezed his arm. “Spike’s gonna stay too, at least for a while.”

Buffy said, “You couldn’t get along with one of them. How are you gonna do with duplicates?”

Xander blushed. “I’ll manage. I’m not a kid anymore. Anyway, the three of us can team up to help the with the local demon issues. My Slayers could use the help.”

“That should be fine for now,” Giles said. “At least while I sort this…well, whatever apocalypse has presented itself this month. But long-term?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, what Spike does is up to him. And William—he can stay as long as he wants. I’d like to help him…heal if I can.” Xander hadn’t shared with the others the horrific details of William’s past, but they all had experience with The First, and he was sure their minds could fill in the blanks. 

“It’s really nice of you to do this for Spi—William,” Buffy said.

Xander looked at William, who by then must be good and tired of being talked about as if he were a puzzle or a problem, and not a wounded, feeling being. “There’s one more thing,” he blurted out.

“Good Lord, what now?” said Giles.

“I’m…well, I’m fairly certain I’m falling for William.”

There was a shocked silence both on the phone and in the room. It was Buffy who finally spoke. “Falling? As in tripping over your feet?”

“As in head over heels, Buff. He’s…I can’t explain it. God knows it wasn’t what I expected either. But I think he’s…special.” Xander groaned. “And now I’ve turned into a complete girl.”

He expected protests or warnings or threats of interventions and excommunication. Instead, there was more silence, and then finally Buffy said, “Xan, does he feel the same?”

Xander glanced at William, who nodded several times. “Yeah,” Xander confirmed.

“Then if he’s anything like our Spike—and I guess he would be, right?—then you’re a lucky man.”

Xander hung up shortly after that. Spike was looking away, pretending nobody would notice that he was blinking tears from his eyes, and as soon as the phone was down William crawled entirely into Xander’s lap and brought their foreheads together. “You weren’t ashamed of me,” he whispered.

“I _told_ you I wasn’t. And Buff was right—I am a lucky man.”

“She never—   _My_ Buffy—but then she never was mine, was she? She never believed in me.”

“Your Buffy was stupid. Look, ours…I don’t think she ever loved you…well, Spike…the way he loved her. But she trusted him. A couple weeks after Sunnydale we were kinda reminiscing, and she said if the world was an egg and she had to give it someone for safekeeping, she’d give it to Spike.”

Across the room, in a hoarse voice, Spike rasped, “She said that?”

“Yeah. And that analogy would have made a lot more sense to you if you went to Sunnydale High.”

William was snuffling against Xander’s shoulder again, Spike was sucking on his lower lip to keep it from shaking, and Xander’s throat felt tight. The three of them were about two seconds away from a major sobfest. Xander sniffed. “How about some tapas?”

***

La Sirena Blava was Xander’s favorite restaurant in Barcelona. He didn’t go there often, because it was the kind of place where you hung out with friends and ate and drank and talked for hours. He hadn’t really had any people to hang with like that—until now. Tonight was just warm enough for the sidewalk tables to be tolerable. In Xander’s coat and scarf, William looked even more edible than the food. Other customers and passersby kept giving their table long looks, no doubt wondering how a somewhat scruffy one-eyed man ended up dining with a pair of gorgeous twins.

Barcelona kept vampire hours, so they were able to remain at their table very late. Xander got a little drunk on the good wine that Spike ordered, and William relaxed quite a bit as Spike told them tales of some of his adventures over the past ten years. But when Spike mentioned some town in Italy, William grew suddenly tense again.

Concerned, Xander put his hand on William’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

William shook his head slowly. “Positano. Dru loved that place.”

Spike’s eyes went far away. “Yeah. She said the stars were nearer there than any place on earth, and the fish sang to her.”

“Is she….” William licked his lips. “In this world—is she still about?”

“Dunno. Haven’t heard from her since Sunnydale. I’ve been glad to avoid her, really. Wouldn’t want to have to stake her, but couldn’t just let her go on.”

“Oh,” William said softly. And then, after a pause, “I saw her. Once. She said she came to dance with The First for a time, and The First let her…let her visit me.”

“What did she do, mate?” Spike asked gravely.

“She…she said I’d earned it for being weak. Not a man, not a monster anymore, she said. She was right. And there was some of her nonsense—worse than the voices in my head. Dunno what she meant by it.”

“What did she say?”

William’s brow furrowed. “Can’t…. ’T’s all mixed inside. Lace and blood and the hot, hot sun and a bloke can’t tell what’s what.”

“Sort it then!” Spike snapped.

Xander glared at him. “Hey! Lay off.”

“This might be important. Dru may be as bonkers as he is, but she sees things sometimes. Sees the truth.”

In an eerie voice that made Xander’s skin crawl, William said, “’The little mouse goes looking for his hidey-hole. Where shall he find it? Love knows but shall she listen? The world wobbles like a top and where shall it fall? Death is only a beginning, my dark prince. One and one is one, and one and one is one, and that leaves two.’”

William ducked his head and Spike and Xander looked at each other. “Well, that was enlightening,” Xander said.

Spike looked unhappy. “Let’s go find your Slayers.”

***

The meeting with the Slayers went fairly well, actually. Galiana had already told them about William—well, she’d thought he was Spike—and the addition of a second vampire only seemed to intrigue them. The six of them sat around a table at a café, most of them nursing espressos. Joana flirted shamelessly with Spike, who seemed to enjoy the attention, while Remei went all puppydog-eyes over Xander and William. “It’s so _romantic_ ,” she sighed. “Traveling from another dimension to reunite with the man you love.”

“It’s not like that, Rem,” Xander tried to explain.

But she wouldn’t listen. She tended to have her head dangerously in the clouds anyway. Sometimes she spoke of trying to reform demons instead of slaying them, much to the chagrin of Xander and the other girls. Optimism was great, but Xander was afraid someday her attitude would get her killed. “Soulmates,” she said. “That’s why you’ve been so unlucky in love, Xander. You didn’t know it but you were waiting for your other half.”

Xander didn’t believe that for a moment, but there was no use arguing, and any attempts he made at denial might only hurt William’s feelings. So he just rolled his eye and pretended he didn’t see Spike’s smirk.

William, however, smiled at her. “You’ve read Plato then?”

Remei looked confused and shook her head.

William closed his eyes and recited: “‘The sexes were originally three, men, women, and the union of the two; and they were made round—having four hands, four feet, two faces on a round neck, and the rest to correspond. Terrible was their strength and swiftness; and they were essaying to scale heaven and attack the gods. Doubt reigned in the celestial councils; the gods were divided between the desire of quelling the pride of man and the fear of losing the sacrifices. At last Zeus hit upon an expedient. Let us cut them in two, he said; then they will only have half their strength, and we shall have twice as many sacrifices.’ Erm, there’s a boring bit in the middle, and then, ‘For love is the desire of the whole, and the pursuit of the whole is called love.’”

Everyone except Spike gaped at him, and William ducked his head, embarrassed.

“I just saw _Hedwig_ ,” Remei giggled. “But that’s so much cooler! Do you have other stuff memorized?”

“Oh, he’s loads of things in that cranium,” said Spike. “Bits and bobs rattling about like dice in a box. He filled himself with it when he was human, see, and now it comes back to haunt him.”

Xander might have yelled at Spike for picking on William again, only something in Spike’s tone stopped him. Those bits and bobs must have been a sometimes uneasy burden in Spike’s head too, Xander realized. William realized, too. He gave Spike a sympathetic look that Spike turned away from.

Remei looked thoughtful. “If that Plato guy was right, then isn’t it Spike and William who should be in love? I mean, you two are sort of a whole that split, right?”

Spike scowled and shifted in his seat. “I let Harris shag the moony sod.”

“Yeah, if you did it’d be incest,” Joana pointed out. 

Xander thought about Spike and Dru, and Angel and Darla, and various combinations of the four. “I don’t think incest is such a bad things with vamps, necessarily. Besides, I think it’d be more like masturbation.” He couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation, but he grinned anyway. 

Gali turned to William. “When you got…zapped here…were you specifically looking for X?”

He shook his head. “No. I only…I wanted somewhere safe. That’s what I wished for. Didn’t expect it to come true. I couldn’t imagine a real refuge.” He sighed. “There aren’t any in my world.”

“But who granted your wish?”

“Dunno. Socrates said love is a great demon who conveys prayers and commands between men and gods. I don’t reckon she’d listen to a vampire, though.” He sounded sad and wistful and a little lost, and he leaned against Xander tiredly.

Xander put on his metaphorical Watcher hat. “Okay, ladies. You have stared and interrogated plenty, but word is there’s something spooky up on Montjuïc, over near the Olympic stadium. I think it’s time for you to head up there.”

They grumbled and made faces and accused him of just wanting alone time with his pretty nuvis, but eventually they did roar off on their motorbikes, leaving Xander with the bill and two quiet vampires.

  
[Chapter Eight](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/261308.html)

 

 

 

  



	8. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (8/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  8 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

  


 **  
**

  


 ****

 **Eight: All Systems Go**

“Why do _I_ have to do it? It’s nothing to do with me.”

“Okay, Spike. First off, whining does not become an ancient demon—”

“’M not ancient!”

“And second, it does too have to do with you. I mean, he _is_ you. Besides, I already had to talk to Angel once this week. That’s more than enough.”

Spike pouted. “Get him to do it,” he said, gesturing at William, who was in the kitchen making tea. “His sire, too.”

“Yeah, and that conversation’s gonna go real well when Will starts quoting Shakespeare or making baked good analogies. And anyway, I think there’s kind of some hard feelings there. Remember, in his world Deadboy got crowned Buffy’s Champion. And then he screwed it up.”

“Wanker,” Spike grumbled, and Xander wasn’t sure whether he was referring to Angel or him. But then Spike grabbed the phone and stomped into the bedroom and slammed the door, and within a few minutes there was a lot of yelling, which Xander chose to ignore. William just sat across from him and sipped at his Earl Grey.

“I’ve caused loads of trouble,” he said unhappily.

“Not really. The Scoobies and the Slayers handled the news well and Angel and Spike will deal.”

William looked slightly mollified. “Does it bother you? That I wasn’t searching specifically for you?”

Xander thought about that and then shook his head. “No. I mean, why would you? I’m glad you found me, though.”

“Me too,” William said with a smile. “But it’s good you don’t mind the…the upset in your life.”

“I’ve had a lot of weird things happen to me over the years. I’m used to it. Sometimes I think weird is better than…normal. Boring.”

“A man can stand anything except a succession of ordinary days.”

Xander nodded. “I tried ordinary, you know. After Sunnydale. I mean, I’d had it. There was Anya and my eye and…and my home. Sunnydale sucked but it was home. So the rest of the gang headed to Cleveland but I didn’t. I caught a bus to Oregon. Portland. Got a job in construction.”

“You were good at that, love. I remember.”

“I was. Made pretty good money at it, too, although I spent most of my time getting rained on. I dated. Girls—real girls, not demons—and then a couple boys, too. Drank microbrews and recycled and bought a nice pickup truck. I could have had a good life.”

William reached over and took his hand. “But?”

“But one day I’m watching the news and they’re saying how the second jogger in a week’s been killed in Forest Park. Some maniac with—”

“Let me guess. A barbecue fork.”

“Got it in one.”

“What did you do, pet?”

“I called Buff. But she was busy in Madison, so she had Giles ship a couple of other Slayers my way. I wasn’t gonna get involved, though. I just pointed them in the right direction, guessed they’d figure out the rest.” Xander realized he was clutching William’s hand so tightly it must have hurt, and he loosened his grip. But William let go of his tea and placed his other hand on top.

“And?” William asked.

“And one of ‘em got killed. The vamps weren’t anything special, but these girls were so _green_.” Xander sighed. “Her name was Tisha and she was this really shy girl. She still wore pigtails sometimes. After she died, I helped the other Slayer get rid of that nest, and then…and then there were demons in Seattle, and then Idaho Falls, and then…. I got drafted, I guess.”

“Don’t you reckon you’ve done enough by now? You’ve been fighting…what? Over half your life.”

“It’s never enough,” Xander replied glumly.

“You sound like Peaches,” Spike said. Xander hadn’t noticed that the second vampire had entered the room. “But you’ve nothing to atone for.”

“You know, demons don’t have a monopoly on bad behavior.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “You’ve tortured and murdered thousands of innocents?”

“Not that I remember. But still—I’ve hurt people. Done bad stuff.”

“Such as?”

Xander gently pulled his hand away from William and began ticking items off on his fingers. “Almost raping Buffy when I was possessed by a hyena. Lying and sending Angel to hell. Cheating on Cordelia with Willow. Summoning a dancing, singing, spontaneously combusting demon. Dumping Anya at the altar.” He looked back and forth between the two vampires. “Not being very understanding of a soul-sick demon.”

Spike shook his head. “You were a boy. Nobody expects much compassion from a teenager, least of all a monster.”

“There are plenty of compassionate teenagers, Spike. You wanna be unholier-than-thou? You win. But I’m just saying—just because I’m human doesn’t mean I don’t have bad shit to make up for.” He sighed. “And let’s drop it. How is grandpa these days?”

Spike gave an evil grin. “Horrified at the thought of two of us. Put out that William went to you for help. Jealous that you’re shagging him.”

“So then that call went pretty well after all.”

“It did at that.”

***

 The first four days after Spike showed up, the three of them didn’t do much demon-fighting. They went out at night, but mostly just to stroll around and drink and give would-be bad guys the evil eye—five evil eyes, actually. Xander thought it was interesting to watch Spike and William together. In many ways they were identical, of course. But they weren’t necessarily the expected ways. For example, when Spike thought nobody was looking, or when something caught him unguarded, he looked just as vulnerable as his counterpart. Xander wasn’t sure whether this was something new with Spike, or whether Xander had just never noticed it before.

Another similarity was the way they talked. Xander had always thought of Spike’s speech as pretty coarse, but now it wasn’t. Like William, he would slip in fancy words. He wasn’t as likely as William to start quoting things, but sometimes a snippet of poetry or a line from a play would slip in, and Xander would remember what Spike had said about the bits and bobs in their heads. Spike, it seemed, was considerably better educated than he had formerly let on. He might possibly even know more arcane stuff than Giles.

But there were also differences. William still visibly lacked Spike’s confidence. He kept Xander close at his side almost every moment. He was softer, as if some of the rough edges had been worn away by his trials, and he still tread lightly, uncertain of his place in their world. William also dressed differently. Spike dressed like a punk musician, and William more like a successful sort of metrosexual guy, a young executive in a hip ad agency, maybe. They were both handsome, though, and heads turned as Xander walked around Barcelona, bookended by lighter-complexioned twins.

On the fifth night, as they exited the building and started on the usual route, Spike suddenly stopped. “Bugger this. I need a good dust-up.”

Xander had been feeling a little at loose ends, too, and he nodded. He looked at William. “You up for it?”

William hesitated only a moment before saying, “Skin’s all prickly, like a porcupine inside out. Can’t just sit in the corner eating pudding.”

Xander was unsure whether this was an affirmative, but Spike whooped happily, so Xander decided all systems were go.

“Where’s the excitement ‘round here, Harris?”

“Well, if we really want something interesting, we can probably dig something up in El Raval or Bari Xinès.”

Spike gestured. “Lead on.”

Xander did. The vampires flanked him, William somewhat more closely than Spike, and Xander felt kind of bad-ass, like he was important enough to have bodyguards. He kind of wished he had a flappier coat and dark sunglasses.

He took them to a grimy street he’d visited a few times before. It wasn’t so bad during the day—mostly hard-working immigrants—but at night it tended towards prostitutes, drug dealers, and demons. The trio ignored the prostitutes, snarled at the drug dealers, and looked for demons. It didn’t take long to find them: Spike and William caught the scent of vampires and, like a pair of bloodhounds, tracked their way through narrow alleys and past closed-up storefronts. They stopped when they came to a low window that probably opened into a basement.

Spike looked at Xander. “There are three or four of them. Stay here,” he ordered quietly.

“Nope. I’m not a sidelines kind of guy.”

Spike glared but clearly didn’t want to get into an argument. He carefully pulled aside the wire mesh that covered the opening—it was only partially attached, and the glass was long gone—bent to peek inside, and then dropped in. William squeezed Xander’s shoulder and followed his double, and then Xander went in as well, probably landing a lot less gracefully than they did. They were in a small, filthy room that smelled of sewage and decay. Xander had to work hard not to gag. There was no sign of any vamps, but Spike was already leading the way towards a small door, through which Xander could dimly hear voices. Spike didn’t waste time on preliminaries: he burst through the door, hopping aside nimbly so William and Xander could follow.

They found a gruesome scene. Four vampires in gameface were gathered around a dazed and bleeding young woman who, judging by her clothing, was probably a prostitute. Several corpses in varying stages of rot were piled in one corner of the large room.

The vamps seemed surprised by the interruption, and that gave the intruders the advantage. Before any of the bad guys could react, Spike was attacking. He went straight for the biggest one, a male with scraggly black hair and hulking muscles. William, meantime, launched himself at two more, one who appeared to be a teenage girl and the other a middle-aged man. That left Xander with the last demon, a skinny guy who gaped at the melee and who, judging by his dirty funeral suit, was probably a brand-new fledge.

Xander couldn’t let himself be distracted by what his allies were up to. He pulled a sharp stake out of his back pocket and rammed it neatly into the fledge’s chest. The fledge hardly even got a roar out before he was dust.

A quick glance told Xander that Spike was having a great time toying with his target. William had already dusted the girl and was struggling with the man, who was putting up a decent fight. Xander wanted to help, but he feared he’d just get in the way. Besides, he figured William needed to do this himself. Getting a hand from a one-eyed human wouldn’t boost his shaky confidence very much. So Xander grabbed the victim instead and dragged her under the room’s single bare bulb to get a better look at her. She was pale and shaky, but it didn’t appear that the vampires had taken more than a nibble from her yet.

Xander took her by the shoulders and shook her gently to try and rouse her out of her shock. “Hey! Can you walk okay?”

Her eyes focused on him but she didn’t seem to understand.

“Estàs bé?” he asked. “Get out of here. Go to the hospital. Anar a l’hospital.”

She looked over her shoulder at the battling vampires, shuddered, and then nodded. Xander let her go and she staggered across the room and out the door. He watched as she dragged a broken piece of furniture to the window and used it to boost herself high enough to escape. 

By the time Xander turned back, Spike had finished with his opponent, who was now ashes, and was watching as William continued to battle his. Spike could have finished the ugly guy off right away, but William was still being slightly hesitant in his moves. Spike caught Xander’s eye, and Xander shook his head. Spike nodded his understanding. And then a moment later, William got a really good grip on the demon and twisted his head most of the way off. The demon went _poof_. William stood there, panting, then looked up at Xander with chagrin.

“Sorry. Tinman. Gears too slow and joints rusted,” William said.

Xander smiled at him. “You’re a little out of practice, but you beat two of them. I’d say that’s a pretty good start.”

Unexpectedly, Spike piped up. “Yeah. That second one had some good moves. Remember when I—when _we_ —mended from having that sodding organ dropped on us? Took us ages to get up to snuff, but we did.”

“But I wasn’t paralyzed this time,” William said quietly.

Spike tapped his own head. “Sometimes the damage up here’s worse than the physical shite. Takes longer to mend. Messier. Give it time, yeah?”

William looked slightly encouraged. He led them out of the room. As he scrambled out the window, Xander whispered to Spike, “Thanks. That was nice.”

Spike looked surprised, then smiled in an especially William-ish way.

***

They had drinks afterward, sort of a little celebration, and then returned to the flat. By then Xander was exhausted, and they were all filthy. While Xander listened to voicemail messages from Giles and Willow—the usual stuff, doom is nigh—William took a shower, wandered out with a towel around his hips to drink some blood, and then went to bed. Then it was Xander’s turn to clean up. When he came out of the bathroom he peeked in on Spike, who was sitting on the couch, watching TV with the sound turned very low. “Shower’s all yours,” Xander said.

Spike looked up at him. “Ta.”

“Are you…. Is the couch comfortable enough? ‘Cause if you’re gonna stay a while we could get a futon instead.”

“I’ve slept in crypts, Harris. The sofa is fine.”

“Okay. But I could get you a better pillow, maybe. That one’s kinda small. Or—”

“It’s _fine_.” Spike made a little shooing gesture. “Go shag your demon. Or let him shag you. He earned it tonight.”

Xander figured Spike had earned something too, but what did Xander have to offer him except improved bedding? With a wave, Xander retreated to the bedroom and closed the door.

“You smell lovely,” William murmured as Xander climbed into bed. 

“Soap and shampoo can work wonders.”

William nuzzled his neck. “Nah. You _always_ smell lovely. Like bread baking or bacon frying. Why do you think you end up with so many demons panting after you?”

“I thought it was my quick wit and natural charm.”

William chuckled against him. “That too, love.” Then he sighed. “’M sorry about tonight. Should have dusted those two straight away, and not left—”

“Will. I told you. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m proud of you—you were a little scared but you jumped right in there.”

William snorted. “Scared of a couple of bloody fledges.”

“No,” Xander corrected. “Scared of yourself, I think. Because it’s been so long since you could stretch your demony muscles and you weren’t sure you could anymore. But you could and you did. That’s courage.”

William thought for a moment. “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear. You’ve been brave since you were a pup.”

“If you mean I’ve spent most of my life scared shitless, yeah, that’s me.”

“You fought well. Either you’ve improved since Sunnydale or you’re a better fighter than the Xander in my world ever was.”

“I’ve improved. Practice.” Xander ran his hand down the smooth planes of William’s back and then farther, so that his palm rested on the curve of William’s ass. William wiggled appreciatively and Xander felt William’s cock harden against his hip. “You know, I’ve practiced some other stuff since then too.”

“Oh?” William purred.

Xander moved quickly. He pushed William onto his back, climbed on top of him, and then slithered down under the blankets, until he could nudge William’s balls with his nose. William smelled good, too, clean and just a little musky. Masculine. Xander stuck his tongue out and swiped it along the length of William’s shaft. Yep. He tasted good, too.

William had gone very still, but as soon as Xander licked him he convulsed slightly and then grabbed Xander’s hair with both fists. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to connect them. Xander signaled his approval with another stroke of his tongue, feeling the flesh jerk in response. Then took William’s cock in his left hand and positioned the head between his lips, and he settled in for a really serious blow job.

Xander had accepted his bisexuality belatedly. Yeah, there had always been that niggling little voice at the back of his head, the one that liked to point out that the guy over there had a nice ass, or that one was deadly gorgeous. But Xander had ignored that voice for years, or else rationalized it by explaining to himself that he was only appreciating the male form, and there was nothing unusual about that. Besides, Xander liked _girls_ , no question about that. 

But then a couple months after he’d arrived in Portland, a co-worker named Dani insisted on dragging him along to her favorite club. He let himself be dragged, figuring there were worse ways to spend an evening than surrounded by lesbians. But the clientele of The Bump ended up being more mixed than he’d expected, and when a good-looking blond guy invited Xander to dance, Xander said, “Sure.” He hadn’t danced in a long time. 

As it turned out, the blond was a good dancer. Very good. They danced through six or seven songs, getting pleasantly sweaty in the process, and then cooled off with a couple of drinks. Repeat. As the hours grew wee and the bar tab grew larger, that niggling voice grew louder. Xander never did say goodbye to Dani that night, but he went to the blond’s nearby apartment and the blond—who did have a name, and it was Erik—gave Xander a couple more beers and then the best blow job of Xander’s life. And the niggling voice rejoiced as Xander decided turnabout was fair play and reciprocated—and discovered he _liked_ having a cock in his mouth. Who knew? After that, resistance was futile. The only regret Xander had about being bi was that he’d taken so long to acknowledge it.

Xander hadn’t slept around, though. He wasn’t _easy_. Besides, the guys and girls who hit on him had an unnerving tendency to sprout fangs or scales or tails at inopportune times, so he tried to be careful. But still, he wasn’t a monk, and he’d given real thought and attention to his newfound interests.

The crux of it was, Xander gave really good head, if he said so himself. Other men seemed to agree. Certainly William seemed to think so now, as he moaned and thrust under Xander’s careful ministrations. Xander fisted his own cock while he was at it, so when William jerked twice and then spent down Xander’s throat, Xander was not far behind him, reaching his own climax as he licked William’s softening cock clean.

As soon as Xander reappeared above the blankets, William attacked him with a deep and grateful kiss. “Now you taste lovely as well,” he said when they broke apart. “Semen’s not so different to blood. It’s the life in us, the ocean we carry from our ancestors.”

That gave Xander a thought. “Um, Will? I might have read a little bit about vamps and sex, back when I was trying to stay awake during research time. And biting, blood…that’s a part of it for you guys too, isn’t it?”

William looked at him gravely. “Doesn’t have to be. When I was with other vampires—’Gelus, Dru—it was. But Harmony said it was gross, and Buffy wouldn’t trust me near her neck like that.”

Xander decided that he’d think later about William—William and Spike—having sex with Angel. Much later. “I’d trust you,” he said quietly.

William blinked at him for a few moments and then smiled. “It can be nice, being bitten, you know. Remember? Captain America fancied it. I’d make it nice for you.”

It had been a long day, but Little Xander twitched appreciatively at the tone in William’s voice. “I may take you up on that offer next time,” Xander said.

William groaned. “Tease. Now I’ll be thinking of nothing else.”

Xander grinned. If William could think about biting and sex instead of the horrors he’d been through over the past years, that would count as a major win. Xander kissed William’s scarred eyebrow and squirmed around a little, settling himself more comfortably around William and under the sheets—which were going to need washing when they woke up.

After a few minutes, though, William whispered, “Xan?”

“Hmm?”

“He’s not as strong as he lets on.”

Xander tried to clear his groggy head. “Who isn’t?”

“Spike.”

“Oh. He was just playing with that vamp tonight, Will. If he’d wanted—”

“Don’t mean physically. I expect he’s in fine shape there. I mean…in his head. Better than me, but that’s not saying much, is it?”

“He seems relatively sane, for Spike. Um, no offense,” Xander added quickly.

“Not barmy. More…sad. Lonely.”

“Oh.” Xander chewed on that for a while. “Have you been thinking about what Remei was saying?”

“A bit.”

“Do you want….” Xander stopped and swallowed. “If you think you’re a better fit with him, I understand. I mean, you are—”

William had turned around so that he faced Xander. “’M a perfect fit with _you_ , git _._ But him…who’s he meant to be with then?”

“I dunno.”

“Do you fancy him?”

“I…but I…you….” Xander sputtered for a moment. “I fancy _you_. Remember? Public declarations of adoration?”

“I know you do, pet. But how do you feel about him?”

Xander considered the question carefully. It was Spike they were talking about! But then William was Spike too, when Xander started falling for him. Somewhere there was a universe where things weren’t this complicated. Xander envied the Xander who lived there. Finally, carefully, he said, “How could I not like him? I like you, and the two of you…well, you’re not clones, but you’re a lot alike.”

He waited anxiously for William’s response. But William simply smiled and stroked Xander’s cheek. Then he turned around again and went to sleep.

[Chapter Nine](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/261860.html)

    
 

  



	9. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/), who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (9/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  9 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

 **  
  
  
**

  
**Nine: The Fights**   


Xander enjoyed the fights.

As William had observed, he’d become pretty decent at demon slaying over the years. Not as good as a Slayer or a souled vampire or a witch, of course, but passable. Enough to stay alive. But he hadn’t especially liked it. It was a job, like delivering newspapers or serving up beers or being a phone-sex operator. But now, with two vampires at his side, it became fun. Fun because he had increased odds he’d survive each evening. Fun because it was a thrill to watch his housemates brawl—they were beautiful as any work of art as they spun and kicked and punched and bit. And fun because with each victory, William’s confidence grew and his craziness subsided a little more, until his head was as high and his shoulders as straight as Spike’s.

Xander also enjoyed the times when they weren’t fighting. He liked sitting on the couch between the vampires in the afternoon, waiting for the sun to set, watching crap on TV and listening to Spike and William bicker good-naturedly with each other. Sometimes he even got custody of the remote for a while. He liked watching William putter around the kitchen, cooking some of the best food Xander had ever tasted. If William occasionally decided to be a chef au naturel, well, then Xander got a nice eyeful as well as a nice bellyful. Spike stopped grumbling about the nudity after a while and instead took up admiring William’s—and hence his own—attractions: “I really do have a lovely arse, haven’t I?”

When it was dark enough for vampire safety, Xander liked going out. They’d often begin the evening with a drink somewhere, and then a quick stroll down La Rambla before heading to some of the seedier and more demon-infested parts of the city. One night Xander rented a car and they drove up the coast to Figueres, where a nest of vamps was preying on late-night tourists in the area around the Dali Museum. After the fights were over they’d stop for drinks again, if they were in a more or less gore-free condition, and then head back to the apartment to patch each other up and maybe watch a DVD before bedtime. 

They were sort of a weird island unto themselves, hearing little from anyone else. Sometimes Xander called his Slayers and directed them somewhere he’d heard there were problems. Every few days, the Slayers would meet with him and the vampires in an abandoned storefront they used as a training room, and the vampires and Slayers would spar with one another; now and then Xander would join in, too. Buffy and Willow and Giles called only rarely. They were all busy anyway—apparently the word on the magics grapevine was that something bad was brewing. Nobody knew quite what. Not for the first time, Xander wished that predictions of doom would be more specific.

When they went to bed each night, tired and happy, Xander and William made love. Xander did let William bite him, and it was more amazing than William had promised. It was like turning sex up to eleven. It was like his veins and every inch of his skin became one giant erogenous zone. It was as if Xander had found religion. It was very, very nice.

William liked it too, of course. He hadn’t had human blood since Sunnydale—Xander didn’t ask what he’d been given to eat in captivity and Spike didn’t tell—and that alone made it a treat. But William claimed that Xander tasted as good as he smelled, that he was the vampire’s equivalent of prime rib with Chateau Lafite-Rothschild and Sachertorte for dessert. He never took more than a few sips, and any lightheadedness Xander felt was from the unbelievable goodness of penetrating William while William penetrated him, and not from blood loss.

Of course, the morning after the first bite, Spike noticed as soon as Xander emerged from the bedroom. Xander’s shirt collar didn’t quite hide the two tiny wounds on his throat. Spike’s eyes flew open wide and then narrowed. “Playing with fire, innit?”

Xander walked by him and into the kitchen. “He hardly drank any.”

Spike hopped off the couch—naked, which Xander tried not to notice—and stalked to Xander’s side, blocking him from opening the fridge. “This time. What about next, when he’s feeling a bit more peckish? I know it feels like your head might explode, but is a good shag worth risking your life over?”

“First, it’s a _great_ shag. And second, I trust him.” Xander pushed Spike gently out of the way, opened the fridge, and fished out his orange juice. He drank straight from the carton. Then he returned it to the fridge and rooted through the shelves for something to eat. He emerged triumphantly with the remains of the lamb and vegetable casserole William had made the day before. He dumped the leftovers onto a plate, which he shoved into the microwave. He grabbed a fork while he waited.

“You trust him,” Spike repeated.

“Yep.”

“Look, Harris. I know we’ve souls and all, but he’s completely barmy.”

“Not completely. Nowadays, I’d say only, um, 18 percent. Maybe even 17.”

Spike shook his head. “Even if he were completely sane, you don’t understand. Blood fresh from the vein, the heart pumping it down your throat…once you’ve tasted it, it’s hard to stop.”

“I get it. I’ve been known to eat an entire bag of Ruffles Sour Cream and Onion in one sitting.”

“But nobody dies if you do!” Spike shouted.

“Nobody dies if William bites me, either.”

“How do you know that?”

“Told you. I trust him.” The microwave dinged and Xander pulled the plate out. The food smelled wonderful. But Spike stood in his way, keeping him from getting to the table.

“You trust a demon?” Spike sneered.

Xander looked him steady in the eye. “Actually, I trust two demons.” That statement surprised Spike enough for Xander to push by him. Xander set his food down on the table and plopped down on a chair. The new chair he’d bought the day before, in fact. He scooped up a forkful of casserole and groaned with delight when he shoved it into his mouth. “Man, this is his best yet.”

Xander heard Spike’s bare feet padding up behind him. He set the fork down just as Spike grabbed his hair and bent Xander’s head to the side. “Trust me now?” Spike growled, his fangs just brushing against Xander’s skin.

Xander didn’t flinch. “Yeah, I do,” he replied calmly.

“And you’d let me bite you right now, right here?” Spike’s tongue flicked like a snake’s against Xander’s carotid. 

“Go ahead.”

There was a small noise across the room, and Xander moved his eye to see William in the doorway. He was as naked as Spike and he was frowning.

“Your pet demon couldn’t save you, you know,” Spike said. “I could tear out your throat before he reached you. And I’m still stronger than that pillock.”

“I know.” And Xander did know it, but he also meant what he’d said: he trusted Spike. Stupid maybe, but true. He looked across at William and raised his eyebrows just a little. 

William paused, then his frown smoothed out and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Bite me, Spike,” Xander said gently. And he tilted his head even more, offering himself.

He felt Spike’s long sigh more than he heard it. And when the fangs slid in—slowly, oh, so slowly—Xander sighed too. He could see William’s pupils dilate until the blue was only a narrow ring, saw William’s cock fill and harden. Xander’s own cock did the same, and when someone in the room moaned, Xander had no idea which of the three it was.

Spike couldn’t have had more than a mouthful when he licked again at the fresh wounds—they were on the opposite side from William’s marks—and stood up straight. Xander twisted around to look at him. Spike was hard too, and his lips were slightly blood-smeared, and his eyes were wide and shocked. 

“See?” Xander said. “Nobody’s any deader than they were before.”

Spike didn’t say anything at all. He blinked a few times and shook his head slowly. Then he walked stiffly past William, not quite brushing his shoulder, and out of the kitchen. A minute later, the bathroom door slammed.

William looked down at his erection. “Planning to do something about this then, pet?”

Xander grinned at him. “Not until I finish my breakfast.”

***

Spike didn’t try to bite Xander again after that, although Xander had made it clear that he was willing to be a snack again and he sometimes caught Spike looking longingly at his neck. They mostly avoided the subject. Anyway, Xander got plenty of nibbling from William—and not always on his neck, either. And although Xander didn’t actually drink blood himself, William wasn’t at all averse to being chomped on in return. They both sported permanent hickeys that made the Slayers roll their eyes and giggle.

The weeks passed amazingly agreeably. Xander became good pals with the butcher at La Boqueria, who not only gave him a discount but sometimes passed on delicacies like goat and horse. The vampires were grateful. Xander’s expenses went up, with more laundry to do and extra mouths to feed (even if they didn’t _need_ the human food, it was nice to eat together) and increased bar bills. He worried about it a little bit, but then someone on the Council decided that Spike and William ought to be getting salaries too. Xander was never sure who he should thank for that one; when he mentioned it to Giles, Giles categorically denied being in favor of paying vampires. With their combined incomes they could have moved to a bigger place, maybe one where Spike didn’t have to sleep on the couch, but he said he was comfortable, and Xander liked this flat, so they stayed. William spent his extra money on clothing and books. Spike pretended it was a secret, but he read William’s books too.

The weather grew warmer, which was nice, but the daylight grew longer and that meant the vampires spent more time cooped up inside. Many soccer games were watched on TV. Xander and William had sex—a lot. Spike and William got hooked on telenovelas. But all three of them would grow impatient as the evening dragged on, and the minute it was safe they’d burst out of their building and into the Barcelona night. Sometimes they could even cheat a little, because the sun’s rays had a hard time reaching the narrow, winding streets in El Born.

On an evening in late May, when the three of them sat in the shadow of Santa Maria del Mar, watching children play and adults stroll by eating sandwiches and licking ice cream cones, Xander’s phone sounded.

“You ought to change your ringtone,” Spike observed as Xander fumbled in his pocket. “I burned, not you.”

He’d said it before and Xander ignored him again. “Hello?”

“Xander. I’m glad I caught you.” Giles sounded harried and distracted, but then he usually did nowadays.

“What’s up?”

“There have been some reports of some Senglar demons in Barcelona. They’ve been haunting the waterfront and dragging away unwary beachgoers.”

“Okay. We’re on it.”

“Xander, Senglars are quite dangerous and they generally travel in large groups. I would prefer to send you some additional Slayers, but things have become complicated here, and in fact demonic activity appears to have picked up everywhere. I haven’t any Slayers to spare.”

Spike had been listening to the conversation and he made an obscene gesture. Three little old ladies sitting nearby clucked disapprovingly.

“Got it, Giles,” Xander said. “We’ll be careful.”

He hung up, called Gali, and told her to gather up her comrades and meet him at the Columbus Monument in thirty minutes. Then he put the phone away and scratched his head. “I haven’t noticed increased demonic activity here. In fact, it’s been kinda quiet.”

Spike clapped his shoulder. “Only the most idiotic demons cause trouble in a city with three Slayers and William the Bloody. And you two,” he added, slightly less than gallantly.

William glared at him. “I’m William the Bloody as well.”

“ _You_ are William the Bloody Chef, and perhaps William the Bloody Clotheshorse.”

“And you are William the Bloody Braggart.”

By then the sun had set enough for them to start strolling towards the monument, and the vampires continued their squabbling the entire way. Xander was used to it. Anyway, he thought there was something pretty affectionate in the way they argued, like siblings. 

They were still trading insults when they reached the monument. It was tall and phallic enough that Spike had commented that its Spanish name “Colón” was strangely apt. The statues at its base depicted very politically incorrect scenes of Spaniards preaching to kneeling Indians, and Columbus was pointing in the wrong direction, but it was a good meeting point. And there was a little elevator inside; for a few Euros you could ride to the top for a great view.

They sat at the base to wait for the Slayers. 

“You know, I was here when this bloody thing was built,” Spike said. “Exposition of 1888. They were throwing buildings up everywhere you looked.”

William chimed in. “All four of us were here. Was Darla’s idea, and it was good hunting, too. Erm, sorry,” he added for Xander’s sake.

“It’s all right. I’m aware that you’re vampires and I refuse to feel sorry for people who died before my grandparents were born.”

Spike clapped his shoulder again. “There’s the spirit. We had a brilliant time. Dru insisted on meeting Gaudi and they had a lovely chat. I wanted to drain him but she wouldn’t let me.”

Xander shook his head. “No way.”

But William backed up his counterpart. “Truly. She said he was going to build dragons and fairy tale cottages, and a house of God like something from a bad dream. And she was right, wasn’t she?”

“She usually was,” Spike agreed.

They passed the time after that with tales from William and Spike about Barcelona in 1888. It was strange to hear them both speaking about that time, because they’d been the same person then. Or something. Thoughts like that always made Xander’s head begin to ache. But both vampires enjoyed talking about it and Xander had a fine time listening, so he wasn’t even angry when, almost 20 minutes late, the Slayers roared up on their motorbikes.

They didn’t know exactly where the Senglars were lurking, so they agreed that the Slayers would check out Maremagnum and the cruise ship terminal, while Xander and the vampires started at Barceloneta and worked their way east along the beaches.

“But what do they look like?” Joana asked.

Spike answered. “Like humans almost, but tall and boxy. And hairy—always loads of hair. They’ve three rows of fangs but you can’t see that if they keep their mouths shut. Their skin’s a bit grayish.”

Everyone decided that was sufficient description and they set off in separate directions.

For quite some time, all they saw were normal people. Tourists and locals, out to enjoy the warm evening or munch on various foods as they strolled along the waterfront. Girls with skimpy tops and tight skirts, boys with carefully gelled hair, mothers and fathers and grandparents and children, talking and laughing and crying and yelling, flirting and kissing, doing ordinary human things. It was nice. Not Xander's cup of tea, but nice.

Xander was watching a mother trying to comfort a crying little girl when Spike and William both froze. On the other side of the street, a half dozen large men in clothing much too extensive for the weather were following a woman and child as they left a grocery store. The pair disappeared around a corner and so did their stalkers.

“Quick,” Spike hissed.

The three of them took off in pursuit, having to dodge traffic as they crossed the street. Xander fumbled his phone out as he ran, catching it from a near-drop and ringing Gali. “We’re heading north on Carrer de Joan Miró,” he panted. “There’s six of ’em and they’re after someone.”

“We’ll get there fast as we can,” Gali said.

He had to call her back a few times as they made periodic turns en route, and the speedy vampires got quite a way ahead of him. He almost panicked when he turned a corner and there was no sign of any of them, but then he heard sounds of struggle coming from behind some trees in a small square. Xander called in his location once more. “Hurry!” he urged before dropping the phone into his pocket. And then he ran.

As he came behind the trees, he saw the woman and her son cowering but apparently unharmed. “Anar a casa!” he yelled at them. After a moment’s hesitation, they ran off.

Spike and William were already right in the middle of it. Fur was flying and the Senglars were grunting and howling. But even a quick glance let Xander know that Giles had been right: these demons were formidable enemies. His vampires were outmatched. Xander pulled a knife from his boot and threw himself into the battle. 

Like most battles, it quickly grew confusing. He had learned long ago that the best strategy was to focus on what was right in front of him. His peripheral vision was gone on one side anyway. You had to look at whatever popped up in front of you, decide whether it was friend or foe, and deal accordingly. Get out of the vampires’ way, stab the furry things. And it worked pretty well; he got in a bunch of good blows, but he didn’t see the long, dirty talons until they almost ripped his face off. He ducked, and it would have been too late, except a blur interceded, taking the brunt of the blow. Someone screamed and bright blood sprayed.

“William! Spike!” Xander shouted, uncertain who’d been hurt and how badly.

But nobody had a chance to answer him as the fighting continued. Xander took a kick that knocked him to his knees, but he managed to scramble out of the way before a murderous demon landed on him. He swung his blade, neatly hamstringing the demon and making it bellow in pain.

Before he could be too pleased with himself though, he saw the figure in black crumpled on the ground. One Senglar was raking the body with its claws while another, apparently now aware what they were up against, had wrenched a stout branch from a tree.

“Spike!” Xander screamed. He stabbed an advancing Senglar in its beady pink eye and turned in time to see William grabbing the makeshift stake from the demon that was about to dust Spike. That demon turned on William while the other continued mauling Spike with its claws. The other four were motionless.

With what he hoped was a bloodcurdling whoop, Xander leaped at William’s opponent. Xander got walloped in the chest hard enough to take his breath away, but he provided enough distraction for William to rip out the demon’s throat. Gasping and staggering, Xander tried to pull the remaining Senglar off Spike. William helped, and they killed the thing just as the Slayers arrived.

“Too late!” a female voice complained, but Xander didn’t bother figuring out whose. He was too busy assessing Spike’s condition.

He wasn’t dust. That was the good news. The bad news was that his back was ripped to shreds. He hadn’t worn his duster that night, and there was nothing left of his t-shirt but a blood-sodden mess. Xander thought he saw the glint of bone and felt sick. William gently shifted Spike onto his side so they could see his front, which turned out to be in not much better shape. His nose was smashed and his eyes swollen shut, he had a gaping hole in his belly, and although he hadn’t stopped breathing there was a whistling sound that spoke of badly broken ribs.

“Oh, no,” Xander said helplessly.

“He’ll mend,” William replied grimly. “Let’s get him home and cleaned up, and pour some blood into him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

William scooped Spike into his arms and carried him like a baby. Reimi had a blanket tucked away in her bike and they used it to drape Spike, more to avert curious glances than anything else. The Slayers walked their bikes, forming an honor guard of sorts as they all progressed slowly to the flat.

“You gonna be able to get him up all those stairs okay?” Xander asked William when they reached their building.

“Yeah,” he replied shortly and began to climb.

Xander paused at the building's entry door, wondering whether they had enough blood in the house. La Boqueria wouldn’t open for several hours yet. He wished he had found a good source for human blood, which he knew would help Spike more than animal. Well, he could certainly donate a pint of his own to the cause. And that gave him another idea. “Ladies?” he said.

The Slayers were standing on the cobblestones, all of them looking worried and disappointed.

“We’re real sorry, X,” Gali said. “We got there soon as we could, but—”

“It’s not your fault. We shouldn’t have split up.”

“But if the three of you hadn’t moved so quickly, those cabrónes would have killed those people.”

Xander nodded. “I know. But look, you guys can still help if you want.”

Joana put her hands on her hips. “If you think we’re gonna go back and clean up that mess—”

“Not that,” Xander interrupted. “We’ll let the Mossos d’Esquadra do cleanup duty. I just…. Spike needs blood. Human blood is best. Slayer’s even better.”

The girls looked at each other for a moment and then Reimi stepped forward. “Okay.”

Xander gave her a quick hug and led them up the stairs.

William had laid Spike on the bed and was in the process of trying to pour a glassful of blood down his throat. Most of it was spilling all over the pillow and sheets. He looked up at Xander, who gave a small smile and then held up a wrist. “I think this’ll work better, Will. Wanna get me started?”

William looked doubtful for just a moment, and then set the glass down and took Xander’s hand in his. His face shifted. He brought Xander’s wrist to his mouth, kissed the tender skin gently, and bit. It wasn’t pleasant, like when they were having sex, but it didn’t hurt very much either. William let go of Xander, and Xander held his dripping appendage to Spike’s slack mouth.

It was unclear whether Spike was conscious, but comatose or not, he clearly recognized a good meal. He began sucking on the wound vigorously, not bothering to deepen the bite. Aside from the sounds of him feeding, the room was very quiet as everyone watched. After a while, William took Xander’s arm and gently moved it away from Spike’s mouth. “That’s enough, love,” he said quietly.

Reimi took his place right away. She hissed a little as William bit her but held her ground, and then quickly put her wrist to Spike’s mouth.

In the meantime, someone had fetched Xander’s first aid kit and Joana helped him bandage his arm. He caught William licking his lips and William shrugged a little. “Been ages since I tasted Slayer’s blood.”

“Tastier than Eau de Xander?”

William smiled. “Never.”

“Good. Let me take a look at you, Will. You got banged up too.”

Somewhat reluctantly, William allowed Xander to help him take off the remains of his shirt. “That was Dolce & Gabbana,” William said sadly.

“Well, you should dress down for fighting.”

William had several claw marks, and dark bruises blooming across his chest and back, but he wasn’t too bad off. Xander cleaned the wounds—taking a break when Reimi finished with Spike and it was Joana’s turn—and bandaged him up. “Make sure you feed, too,” he said to William.

“Yeah. There’s cow left in the fridge. Later.”

Eventually all four humans sported matching wrist bandages and Spike was looking marginally better. William offered to cook something for the Slayers—liver, he said, plenty of iron—but they politely declined and patted Xander’s back and left.

So William cooked for Xander instead, and then actually forced him to eat the liver, which Xander found disgusting but easier than fighting with his lover. At least Will let him wash it down with a couple bottles of stout. And then, very carefully, they peeled Spike’s clothing off and dabbed the blood and dirt from his skin and wrapped him in bandages like a mummy.

“You do realize we don’t need the miles of cotton, Xan? We can’t get infected and his skin will have knit in a few hours.”

“Yeah, I know. But it makes me feel better, okay?”

“Git,” William said fondly.

William lifted Spike in his arms again so Xander could change the bedding. “You won’t make him sleep on the sofa, will you?” William asked.

“Of course not.” Xander watched as William set Spike down as gently as a mother might lay down her sleeping infant. “But that does cause complications.”

“I’ll take the sofa. You sleep with him. He’ll appreciate the warmth if he comes to.”

Xander looked at his vampire, who was still shirtless and looked exhausted. “Bed’s big enough for three.”

So Xander stripped to his boxers and lay down in the middle of his bed, with one cold, naked, unconscious demon on one side and one cold, naked, conscious one on the other, and it wasn’t nearly as sexy a situation as the one he’d been daydreaming about for weeks. William snuggled up against him as he always did, and then Spike let out a slight, moaning sigh, and he inched closer as well. Xander pulled the blankets up to his chin, turned his head a little to kiss William’s soft hair, and closed his eyes.

And that’s when the fucking doorbell rang again.

  
[Chapter Ten](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/262169.html)

  

  



	10. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/), who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (10/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  10 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

 **  
**

 **Ten: The End of the World**

Xander leaned in the doorway to his building and blinked blearily. “Willow? Giles?” Would the parade of unexpected visitors never stop?

“Hey, Xan,” Willow said. She had dark circles under her eyes and he could tell she was forcing her small smile. Giles didn’t even try a smile—he just looked grim.

“How?” Xander asked.

“I zapped us here. We need to talk.”

“There’s this great newfangled invention, Willow. It’s called a telephone.”

Willow shot a look at Giles, who frowned and replied, “Yes, Xander. I believe I’ve heard of it. But this…it’s better if we speak in person.”

Xander gave him a long look. “This isn’t gonna be good news, is it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I someone dead?”

“Not yet.”

“Is it that apocalypse you were working on?”

Giles nodded.

Xander rubbed at his eye. “Look. We had a tough night. We killed those Senglars you sent us after but Spike just about got dusted. Can it wait until morning? Preferably _late_ morning? Please?”

Willow and Giles looked at one another for a moment and then Giles nodded again. “Very well. I expect a few more hours won’t hurt.”

“Thank you,” Xander said, sagging a little. “And the thing is, we’re trying to sleep and it’s pretty crowded up at my place. You guys could hang out in the living room—”

“No. We’re tired as well,” interrupted Giles. “Being transported magically is quite exhausting.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “You ought to try being the transporter, mister. You’re not exactly light as a feather, metaphysically speaking. We’ll go find a hotel, Xan. How about if we meet at noon?”

“Noon is good. Come here, okay? Spike’s gonna be recovering for a while and neither of them can go out until late.”

“Xan, um, maybe we might want to have this conversation away from them.” Willow chewed on her lip nervously.

Xander’s stomach clenched. “No way. We’ve been a team, okay? I’m not gonna keep secrets from them.”

After a brief pause, Giles said, “Very well. We’ll return at noon.”

They turned to leave, and Xander called after them: “Next time use a phone instead of the goddamn doorbell!”

***

Nine eyes—four pairs and a single—darted around the room in the heavy and uncomfortable silence. Spike was awake and in much better shape. Xander had dressed him in his softest, loosest t-shirt and sweats, and he and William had pretty much carried Spike into the living room and deposited him on the couch. Spike was clutching an oversized thermos filled with blood Xander had fetched from the market an hour earlier, and he had blankets piled on top of him because Xander thought he looked cold, and his hair was ungelled and curling as much as William’s. William and Xander sat on either side of him, while Willow sat in the armchair and Giles paced.

Willow finally broke the silence. “I…I guess you got pretty beat up last night,” she said to Spike.

Spike shrugged and then winced. “I’ve had worse nights.”

“He saved my life,” said Xander.

“Was self-defense, really. If you died I’d never hear the end of it from that pillock”—Spike dipped his head at William—“and the rest of your lot.”

Xander smiled. Spike could put on a show now, but Xander had seen the look on the vampire’s face when he’d woken up in Xander’s and William’s bed, and the shocked, almost shy look he’d tried to hide when Xander thanked him.

Now, Spike huffed impatiently. “You didn’t come here to bring me flowers and chocolates. What’s the disaster now?”

Willow and Giles exchanged another of their uneasy looks. Giles cleared his throat, took off his glasses and polished them, then replaced them. “You are aware that we have been facing considerable difficulties of late. There have been various signs and portents of…badness. And demonic activity has increased considerably worldwide in the last several weeks.”

“Things have been pretty quiet here, Giles,” Xander said. “Last night’s mauling notwithstanding.”

“Yes. I’m aware of that.” Giles walked the length of the room and back. “There’s a reason for that, actually. As it turns out, the source of the…problem…is here in Barcelona.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner, wanker?” Spike interjected. “Could have sent us to sort it.”

Another look between Giles and Willow, and then Willow spoke. “Actually, we weren’t sure of the source until last night. We had some ideas, but…but just ideas.”

Xander sighed. He was still tired and all he really wanted to do was cuddle up with William. “Just spit it out, Willow. We can take care of it as soon as Spike’s on his feet again.”

“Yeah,” she answered. “But that’s kinda the issue….” She took a deep breath. “Spike _is_ the problem. Or actually, I guess it’s William.”

William flinched and hunched his shoulders.

“Hey!” Xander said. “I know you don’t know William, but he’s a good guy. He’s…he’s been out there fighting with us, even though—”

Giles interrupted. “She didn’t intend to imply that he was purposely doing any harm, Xander. I’m sure that William is as, erm, intrepid as Spike.”

Neither of the vampires seemed to know how to take a compliment from Giles. But that wasn’t the point at the moment, was it? “So why are you blaming him?” Xander demanded.

Willow put on her Lecture Face. “There are endless worlds, right? You kinda got that already. There was the one where we were vampires, and, oh, bad place! But there’s probably lots of ones where we’re vampires, and ones where…I don’t know…I’m President of the United States and you’re a, a, an Orthodox rabbi. Just, endless possibilities, okay?”

“Rabbi?”

“Whatever. Zillions of universes. And they have stuff in common. Some are almost alike. Like, William’s world, it was pretty much the same as ours until Buffy decided—”

“We all know what Buffy decided,” Xander interrupted, knowing it was a very touchy subject for William.

“Right. Okay. So even though there are similarities, each world stands on its own. It’s the balance of Nature.”

“Balancing like scales,” William said in a near-whisper. “Can’t mess with the weights or it all topples over. Mustn’t do that, no, no, mother would never approve.” It was the first time in several days he’d lapsed into crazy talk, and it was unsettling. Xander reached across Spike’s lap and grabbed William’s hand in his.

Giles stopped walking. “When William traveled from his world to ours, that upset the balance. Our world is meant to have only one version of him, you see? With two of him here, things have begun to go awry, and that, in turn, has given the forces of darkness more power.”

“There was no awryness when vampire Willow came for a visit!” Xander protested.

“That’s because she was here only a short time. Had we not returned her to her own world, we would have faced a situation like this one.”

“Well, fix it!” Xander said. He was feeling a little panicky. “Do some chanting or light some incense or whatever.”

Willow shook her head sadly. “I wish it was that easy. But these are primal forces, Xan. All the magics in the world can’t change that. The only way to fix it is…is for William to go home.”

William made a horrible choked noise. “No!” Xander yelled, leaping to his feet. He ran to the other side of the couch and threw his arm around William’s bent shoulders, as if that would help. “He’s not going back. No way! That place…it’s fucking horrible. You know—you saw The First. You know what it’s capable of if it takes over the world.”

“But that’s just the thing,” Giles said. “If the balance isn’t restored, there’s an excellent chance it _will_ take over this world. And if it doesn’t, something equally horrible will happen.”

“No!” Xander repeated, drawing William closer to himself.

William clutched at him for a moment and then pushed him slightly away. “Can’t do that, Xan. Can’t ruin your world as well. Can’t ruin _you_ , love.” He looked up at Giles and Willow. “Must I go back? If I dust here, won’t that sort things?”

“Yes, I expect it will,” Giles answered with his eyes closed.

“No! No dusting!!” Xander looked wildly at his friends. “There has to be another way!”

“There is,” Spike said quietly, and everyone turned to look at him.

“What?” said several of them.

Spike lifted his chin. “I can go instead. Leave the ponce here with his boy.”

While most of the audience gaped, William wiggled free from Xander’s grasp and turned to grab Spike’s shoulders. “No. No, mate. You don’t know—”

“I’ve been to hell.”

William shook his head. “It’s all wrong, see? The things they made me do—and the spark, it burned and burned, it never stopped. Round and round about, no stopping, not even slowing down, bashing against the walls like a rubber ball but it wasn’t enough. Smashed my head and they mended me, stopped feeding and they forced me, wouldn’t leave me alone, leave me be. It wasn’t the being used that hurt so much. Been used before, yeah? Wasn’t the pain. Wasn’t…. It was all inside, where I could never get at it, could never stop it even for a minute, even for a bloody _second_ , and they’d all gone, all the good, all the love, all….” He started to sob, but he didn’t let go of Spike. He looked at Spike desperately. “Death is not the worst that can happen to men.”

Spike did something that surprised even Xander: he pulled William to him in an embrace, grunting slightly when his wounds were jostled but not letting go. Spike looked fiercely at Xander. “I won’t let him go back there.”

Xander’s stomach was churning and his mind was a whirlwind. “You can’t do this, Spike.”

“Burned once for someone I cared about. You think I wouldn’t sacrifice myself again for….” Spike stopped and looked away.

There was a horrible silence—even William had stopped crying and was slumped against Spike—and then Willow stood. “We can’t wait much longer on this. People are gonna die.”

“I don’t even know how to do this!” Xander exclaimed, grasping at straws. “No cross-dimensional bus passes here.”

“I know,” Willow said quietly. “It’s…it’s not very hard, actually.”

“Of course you fucking know. How long?” Xander demanded. He wasn’t really angry with her, he knew this wasn’t her fault, but who could he yell at? Who could he blame?

Willow looked at Giles. “Tomorrow,” Giles said. “We wouldn’t have come at all if this weren’t urgent.”

Xander wanted to scream at them that this was impossible, but he remained silent as Giles gave him a sad wave and Willow came over and hugged him, and then they left. Xander and Spike and William said nothing after that. What was there to say?

At some point, someone turned on the TV and they sat there, not watching it, each lost in his own thoughts. Eventually William stood and mumbled something about food, but Xander was the opposite of hungry. He tugged William back down onto the couch. Later, he made sure the vampires drank some blood, but Xander had a small amount of apple juice and that was all.

After a while, Spike seemed to sag against Xander a little bit. Sitting up was probably hard on his broken ribs. So Xander and William helped him back to the bedroom, and then, despite his weak protests, helped him out of his clothes. Xander went into the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth. On his way out, before he could enter the bedroom again, William caught him by the shoulders. “The soul is the captain and the ruler of the life of morals,” William said, looking earnestly into Xander’s eye, and for once, Xander caught his drift.

“Yes,” Xander said. “I think…yes.”

William nodded.

Back in the bedroom, William quickly shed his clothing. Xander did the same, and Spike’s eyes went round when the boxers exited, too. William and Xander got into bed, one on each side of Spike. Xander reached over and turned off the bedside lamp, but he’d left the bathroom light on, and that was enough illumination for him to see the vampires in his bed.

Xander repositioned himself slightly and kissed one of the closed-up wounds on Spike’s chest. The skin was still pink and puckered, new-looking.

“What?” Spike exclaimed. “What do you mean—”

But he was cut off when William kissed him.

Xander had entertained twin fantasies when he was a teenager. What guy doesn’t? He’d jerked off more than once to porn mag photo spreads featuring pairs of identically silicone-enhanced girls and, more recently, had indulged himself occasionally with videos of Bel Ami’s Peters twins. But this was better: this was real, and it involved a vampire he loved. Okay, time to be honest with himself. Two vampires he loved.

So he watched them make out for a while, petting whatever bits of skin struck his fancy, until William and Spike finally broke apart, both panting slightly. “You can’t shag me into staying here, you know,” Spike said to them both. “Not that I won’t enjoy you trying.”

Xander said, “It’s not that. Although you’re _not_ going—and neither’s Will—and that’s final, even if I have to chain you both up.”

Spike waggled his brows. “Sounds like fun.” Then he cocked his head a little. “What’s this about then? I expect the two of you have plenty of shagging as it is. Been going at it like bunnies for weeks.”

“That’s not it either. It’s…we _want_ you, Spike.”

William nodded his agreement.

“That’s lovely,” Spike said. “I threw myself at the Senglars, I offer to swap worlds with William, and you’re both thankful. But you don’t—”

“No, dope! I mean, I am thankful, yeah. I’m really glad I didn’t end up mincemeat last night. But…that Plato guy, he didn’t know everything. Maybe sometimes it takes more than two people to make a whole. Like, a chair with two legs, that’d be really wobbly, right? Wouldn’t work. But three legs—that’s nice and stable. I think I’m a three-legged kind of guy.”

Spike’s jaw worked. “You don’t…. Even pretty lies are lies. I can’t….” He tried to pull away.

But William held him down firmly. “Not lies, berk. Haven’t you felt it? We fit together. The three of us.”

“You complete us,” Xander said. He laughed as he said it, but it was true nonetheless.

Spike was blinking back tears. “Don’t…don’t….”

“Shh,” William said and kissed him again.

Xander turned his attention back to Spike’s chest. Xander knew this body—minus the recent injuries. He’d spent the past several weeks memorizing every inch of skin, every muscle. He knew there were a few pale, soft hairs around the nipples, and a light freckle under one rib. He knew exactly what strokes and tweaks would make the body’s owner shudder and moan and arch his back. It was all so familiar to him, even though he’d never before touched Spike so intimately.

Of course, William knew what Spike liked too, and as he kissed, his hands wandered—sometimes onto Xander instead—until Spike was groaning and thrusting his hips upward, and all three of them were writhing like a tangle of snakes.

“Bloody _hell_ ,” Spike whimpered when William let him breathe again.

It would have been nice to do something complicated and athletic, but Spike’s condition was still somewhat fragile. So William grabbed the lube from the nightstand and handed it to Xander before clambering onto all fours. Spike watched, wide-eyed, while Xander gently prepared William, stretching tight muscles and making everything nice and slick. As he watched, Spike petted William’s ass with one hand and stroked Xander’s cock with the other.

When William was more than ready, he straddled Spike’s hips and guided Spike’s cock into himself. Xander would have been content just to observe as those two bodies moved together, as two identical faces registered the same feelings of pleasure. But there was some rearranging of pillows and then Spike was tugging Xander over as well, so that Xander was on his knees across Spike’s chest, with William still raising and lowering himself behind him. Xander used one hand to steady himself on the mattress and reached behind to take William’s neglected cock in the other; William leaned forward and sucked on Xander’s neck, his fingers playing with Xander’s nipples; Spike bent his head forward and slid his mouth over Xander’s cock.

It was easy to lose track after that of who was doing what to whom, and whose hands were touching where. It didn’t matter anyway—it was all good. And then William sped his movements and above the sounds of flesh slapping and mingled sighs, Xander heard William’s bones shifting. William bit him just as Spike swallowed him down completely, and Xander came so hard he actually grayed out for a few moments.

When Xander collected his senses, he was lying on the bed, the filling in a vampire sandwich. One of the vamps—ah, bleached hair: Spike—was licking lazily at his neck and the other was playing with his pubic hair.

“That was bloody _brilliant_ ,” Spike murmured.

Xander could only manage a sated moan in reply.

“Hope is necessary in every condition,” William whispered in his ear.

***

 Xander woke up curled around a sleeping vampire. Little Xander woke up too, because the vampire was naked and the cleft of his ass felt so very nice and inviting. But eventually Xander’s groggy brain registered the fact that there was only one vampire in the bed, and that wasn’t right.

So, taking care not to wake William, Xander crept out of bed. He stretched, scratched at the dried, flaking semen on his lower back, and padded out of the room, into the bathroom. He pissed and glanced at himself in the mirror—he looked like a guy who’d had bad news followed by mind-blowing sex. Then he washed his hands and wandered into the living room, expecting to find Spike on the couch with a mug of blood in his hands.

But Spike wasn’t there.

Instead, he found a black leather duster, lovingly folded and placed on one cushion. With his stomach clenching, Xander picked up the small piece of paper that had been set atop the coat. The handwriting was careful and ornate:

For the sword outwears its sheath,  
And the soul wears out the breast,  
And the heart must pause to breathe,  
And love itself have rest.

                                    --Byron

[Chapter Eleven](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/262824.html)

    
   



	11. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to  [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/), who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (11/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  11 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to  [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

 **  
**

 **Eleven: A Plan**

“How dare you? How _dare_ you?!”

“Xan, we had to, the balance….” Willow was crying. 

Xander didn’t fucking care. “You said we had more time. You said so! We would have come up with something, some other way.”

“But he showed up here and he said…. And there _is_ no other way, not as long as William is here.” 

Xander had no words in answer, so he just howled incoherently until Giles took the phone from Willow. “Xander, it’s done. Having a tantrum won’t—”

“A tantrum? A fucking _tantrum_? You didn’t steal my ice cream cone, Giles. You took my…my… _mine_!”

There was a brief silence. “I hadn’t realized you and Spike—I thought you and William….”

“Me _and_ Spike _and_ William, if you need to know the gory details.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.”

“No, you really don’t. I’ve been happier in the last few weeks than I’ve ever been. Spike’s been happy. And Will—he’d been getting so much better.” Xander glanced over at William, who was hunched on the floor in the corner of the room, rocking his body and mumbling to himself. “We were right, Giles.”

“I’m sorry, Xander. Your happiness doesn’t outweigh the good of the entire world. It can’t. Perhaps you and William—”

“Can what? Soldier on?”

“I’m going to put Willow back on.”

“Why? So she can tell me to buck up? Remember what she did when she lost someone she loved? And Tara, God help her, at least she went on to something better. Spike…Christ, Spike is….” His voice broke and he couldn’t go on.

Giles sighed loudly. “Willow and I will be returning to England shortly. We can discuss this later, when you’re…when you’re a bit calmer.”

“I’m never gonna be calm about this,” Xander said, and ended the call.

He kicked the wall, making the plaster crumble and William flinch, and then he felt bad. So he sat next to William and gathered the vampire in his arms and they rocked together.

***

William was crazier than when he’d first arrived. 

He had occasional brief periods of clarity—sometimes as much as an hour or two—when he might try cooking or, more often, insist on having sex. These activities calmed him, grounded them both. But eventually William’s eyes would go unfocused again and he’d begin to cry or mumble nonsense or, worst of all, hurt himself. The brief periods when Xander left the apartment to stock up on food and blood, he had to tie William to the bedframe, or else return home to find bloody gouges on his lover’s chest or, once, a sickening dent in his forehead.

Needless to say, they didn’t go out and patrol. Xander had short conversations with the Slayers by phone, and that was it. He didn’t push them to keep up their training. He knew if something happened to them due to lack of practice he was going to be even more guilt-ridden, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.

He ignored the calls from Willow, from Giles, from Buffy. Even the one from Dawn and another from Angel.

He and William spent most of their days sleeping, or at least lying in bed, and most of their nights on the couch, faces turned blankly to the TV. They held each other.

Xander felt as if a piece of his heart had been torn away, and they were both tormented with nightmares about what might be happening to Spike.

Several weeks after Spike had gone, they sat on the couch as usual. It was hot. Some sort of cops and robbers movie was on but it was in German, and anyway Xander couldn’t be bothered to follow the plot. William was whispering to himself almost inaudibly, his usual word salad sprinkled with scraps of poetry. Xander had his arm around William’s bare shoulders, absently stroking the soft skin with his fingertips. On the screen, someone who might or might not have been a bad guy bonked another man over the head with a long stick.

“Feritas,” Spike whispered. “No, that was me, fere fera. Ferratilis, that was me as well, in chains, so long in chains, and now there again. He’s there, oh no.”

“Shh,” Xander said soothingly, hoping to head off another bout of tears.

William ignored him. “Fervefacio, to melt, he did that as well, that’s not _right_. Not what I wanted. Ferreus, cruel like the First, another f-word. Fuck, so many f-words and none the right one. Facio, facio, facio, fuck, and the word runs away on fucking feet. Felo de se. Yeah, suicide, but not right. Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas. Bloody Virgil, what did he know? I know the causes, it’s the cure I want. Almost have it, if it wouldn’t skip about so. Ferula! Yes! Ferula!” His voice rose and he turned around to grab Xander’s arm in his excitement. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Xander asked wearily.

“It’s ferula, yeah? But the rest, the rest….” He jumped to his feet and began pacing quickly. “Facilius per partes in cognitionem totius adducimur—bit by bit we understand, and we’ve the first bit, haven’t we?”

“Sure, Will,” Xander said.

“The other bit…. It’s a gem. Gemitus, a groan, yes, but that’s not it either.”

“Will, why don’t you sit down?”

“No! I’ve almost got it, you see. It’s too late, should have been in June, but I could catch it if I could just bloody think! It’s not three, not quite, only two, only…double.” He looked triumphantly at Xander. “Gemini!”

“Okay,” Xander said, lost as usual.

William rushed over and knelt in front of him, gripping Xander’s forearms tightly. “I’ve got it! Ferula Gemini!”

Xander blinked. “Fer—wasn’t that the stick Toth zapped me with?”

“Yes! Split your self and your self, didn’t he?”

“Um, yeah. So?”

William looked at him with eyes suddenly clear and completely sane. “So I’ve an idea.”

***

They could have gone to England. It would have been better, Xander thought, to just show up at Watchers’ HQ and start making demands. But traveling with even a sane vampire was problematic. Too hard to avoid sunshine. Besides, the sooner this happened, the better.

So he picked up the phone and punched in the numbers he’d memorized long ago. “Yes?” came the voice on the other end.

“Hey, Giles.”

“Xander! Is everything—are you all right?” Giles sounded so concerned that Xander felt slightly guilty for being incommunicado. Slightly.

“No, Giles, I am not all right. I’m pretty far from it, actually.”

“Xander, I am truly sorry. Spike may not have been…well, we never did get on. But you care for him, I know that. It had to be done. If there had been some other way to make a sacrifice—”

“I don’t want to hear it. That’s not why I called.” Xander tried to soften his voice a little. “Is the end of the world averted at least?”

“Yes. In fact things are quite well, overall.”

“Good.” At least Spike’s sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing. “But look. William and I—well, mostly Will—we had this idea. Could you and Willow come here to talk about it?”

Giles was silent a moment. “Is it important?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll ring Willow.”

“Hurry, please.”

“All right, Xander.”

***

It took them two days to get to Barcelona. Willow had been in the Middle East somewhere, and flights had to be arranged. She had offered to teleport, but Xander didn’t want her to use up all her magic. She might need it. He hoped.

The place where they met was a bar where, William claimed, he and Dru had seen one of Picasso’s first one-man shows. Xander wasn’t sure if that was true, but it certainly looked authentically old. Giles and Willow were there first, both looking nervous. Giles had a drink in front of him—whiskey, probably—but Willow just had a bottle of mineral water. They all nodded at one another more or less cordially. William wanted whiskey too, but Xander ordered himself a beer.

“I assume you wanted more than company for tapas?” Giles said after they’d all been sitting there a while.

“Yeah.”

Willow sniffled. “I’m really sorry, Xan! I didn’t—”

“Don’t. It’s…it’s done. But look, William had an idea.”

Everyone looked at William. He ducked his head and fidgeted with his glass. At least he wasn’t quoting Shakespeare.

“So here’s the thing,” Xander went on. “I’m sure we all remember when Toth split me in two. Kind of a Captain Kirk deal, right?”

“Xander, I’m certain I’m missing a popular culture reference, but yes, I remember Toth.” Giles’ glass was empty and he gestured to the waiter for another.

“Yeah, sometimes I forget you break out in hives if you watch anything on TV that doesn’t have the word ‘Masterpiece’ in the title. Anyway, so Toth split me into halves, and Willow put me back together. William and I were wondering—couldn’t you put him and Spike back together? Then there would be only one of him, right, and no problems with balance.”

Willow and Giles looked at each other. “Xan,” she said. “That was different. ‘Cause you started off as just one guy. William and Spike didn’t get separated by a demon.”

“No, but they were once one guy, too. All their memories, everything, is absolutely identical until Buffy made that choice about the goddamn necklace. And the way I understand it, until that point they were one, and then that decision split the universes into two.” Even though William had been relatively coherent, it still took him several hours of explaining before Xander, with a splitting headache, started to understand. Now he got it, sort of, although he still felt slightly nauseous when he considered the fact that there must be endless Spikes and Williams and Xanders. Probably a whole bunch of them in worlds where Xander never opened his apartment door to a desperate William, and that didn’t bear thinking of.

Willow was frowning. “I don’t know. That’s still not the same thing, and—”

“He has a point, actually,” Giles interrupted. “Just like Xander before he met with that demon, William and Spike were once a single entity.”

Xander bounced a little in his seat. “Right! And if Willow could smoosh me back together, why can’t she do the same for William and Spike?”

“That was a spell, Xander.” Willow took his hand in hers. “This wasn’t.”

“Spell, schmell. It’s all magic and who better to deal with that than our very own Superwitch?”

Willow looked very thoughtful. But Giles shook his head. “Even if there is a way to do this—and I’m not at all certain there is—would you really want this? William, you would lose your individual identity. So would Spike, I expect. You’d become…well, someone else. I don’t know how it would work with your separate sets of experiences over the last years.”

For the first time since he’d ordered his drink, William spoke. “Rupert, I’ve been losing pieces of myself for over a century now. I’ve tried…tried to replace them with new bits, and sometimes it’s worked, but sometimes…. I’m half of a puzzle, Rupert, and what good is that to anyone?”

“You’re good for me,” Xander said.

“I know, love. But I want to be strong for you. Whole. You deserve that.”

Xander and Spike had already had this conversation and Xander hadn’t really expected William to change his mind. Still, it was good to know that this hadn’t been a passing whim in his lover’s addled head.

“And do you think Spike will feel the same way?” Giles asked.

“I do,” William answered confidently. And really, who would know better than him?

The waiter finally came with refills for Giles and William. Giles drank his very quickly. “Very well. If this is possible—and remember, I said _if_ —we would still require Spike to be present. We can’t very well reunite people if they’re in separate universes.”

“Yeah. We thought of that, too,” said Xander. “Me and William are gonna have to go get him.” This was a point on which he and William had shouted at each other for hours. Xander had insisted that William should stay here, while William said Xander should stay. In the end they’d reached a compromise that made neither of them happy.

Willow’s grip on Xander’s hand tightened. “But William says that place is really awful. And dangerous. Maybe—”

“He’s ours, Willow. We’re gonna be the ones to get him.”

***

Xander looked doubtfully at the stick Willow had handed him. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Pretty much. Look, Toth’s staff had to be made with pain. It’s part of the spell. But this one, it’s the opposite—it’s joining instead of splitting. So to be activated, it needs pleasure.”

William took the staff from him, turned it over in his hands, and leered. “’T’s quite a sex toy, Broom-Hilda.”

She glared at him. “It’s not a sex toy. It’s a very special, delicate, magical, uh…staff.”

“And what, precisely, are we meant to do with this staff?” He made an obscene gesture with it and Xander snatched it away.

Willow was blushing. “You don’t do anything with it. Just make sure you’re touching it when, um, you’re feeling pleasure.”

“Right. And then?”

“Then you’re ready to go. Just take the staff with you, say the transportation spell—you remember the spell, right?”

“You made us repeat it about a hundred times,” Xander said.

“Okay. So you say the spell while touching each other and the staff, and _poof_! You’re off. And hopefully you’ll land somewhere near Spike. If not—”

“We’ll have to search for him,” said William grimly.

“I’m sure he’ll be right there. So after that it’s easy. You and Spike touch each other, Xander zaps you with the stick. You remember how to zap, right?”

“Yes, Willow,” Xander sighed. She’d gone over that a hundred times too.

“Good. That should do the trick right away. Then you touch again and say the transportation spell, and you’ll be back here in a jiffy.”

William and Xander nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Giles is waiting back at the hotel. I guess I’ll just go now and let you two…get things started.”

William cocked an eyebrow at her. “Sure you don’t want to stay, love?”

“Ew!” Xander and Willow said in unison, and William laughed while Willow hurried away.

“That was mean,” Xander said after she’d gone.

“Got her moving quickly, though, didn’t it?” William closed the short distance between them and whispered into Xander’s ear. “Let’s go activate your staff.”

Xander swatted him on the ass.

They were both a little nervous as they undressed a few minutes later. The staff was just sitting there on one edge of the bed, but it was almost as if they had an audience. A demanding audience that wanted pleasure, dammit! They’d have no way to know if the thing was actually going to work until they actually tried it. Xander had suggested dragging Spike back first and then trying the staff, but Willow explained that the transportation spell wouldn’t work to bring back an extra body.

Their clothing shed, William and Xander sat next to each other on the mattress, William’s right knee touching Xander’s left. It was almost like they were two virgins having sex for the first time—or so Xander supposed. His first time had been with Faith and there hadn’t been much of a chance for shyness.

William reached over to stroke Xander’s jaw. “The soul of man is immortal and imperishable,” he said. “Those are Plato’s words as well.”

“Plato was a pretty big know-it-all, wasn’t he? I bet he was a lot like Giles, always looking stuff up in scrolls. Did they have tweed back then?”

William tickled him.

“Hey, Will?” Xander asked when he’d caught his breath. By then they were lying side by side, the staff within easy reach. “I never got a straight answer from you. How did you get here? You didn’t have Willow’s spell or anything.”

William sighed against him. “I prayed. Barmy thing for a demon to do, innit? There was so little of me left, you see. I was almost gone and nothing left for me but impossibilities. So I looked up at the stars one night—they were still there, cold as always, as if the world were doing just fine—and I sent a prayer to anything that would listen. ‘Please,’ I begged. ‘Refuge.’ And some of The First’s minions came and…and there was a bad bit. But when I came to, I was here, in Barcelona. Didn’t know where it was. Reckoned it was a hallucination, a new trick. But there was a glow, like, and that was your building, and I pressed the bell…. ’T’s all I know.”

“Who do you think answered you? The Powers That Be, maybe?”

“Dunno. Perhaps…perhaps in my world some of you who died could look down on me. Take pity. Pull strings. Send me home.”

Xander liked that thought—that in the parallel world, dead Xander was still watching over William, doing what he could for him. It wasn’t any less likely than anything else.

They made love after that. Slowly, with gentle teases and soft caresses, until the entire world fell away and they became a universe unto themselves. And when Xander lost track of where his body ended and William’s began, when all the sensation seemed far too much for anyone to bear, he reached over and touched the staff.

[Chapter Twelve](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/263023.html)

 

   
   



	12. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to  [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/), who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (12/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  12 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to  [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).  


  


 **  
  
  
**

  
**Twe**   
  
  
**lve: Best Laid Plans**   


Xander could tell right away it wasn’t his world. Still slightly out of breath and with their clothes hastily slipped on, he and William had arrived in a city, but he couldn’t recognize which one. It looked like a war had happened there years ago and nobody had come back afterwards. Cars and storefronts were smashed, many buildings were simply piles of rubble, and scattered here and there were bits and pieces that looked like they might be human remains. Xander tried not to look very closely.

“What happened?” he whispered, shocked. They were tucked in a dark alley, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed by passersby. 

“The First happened. It raised its armies from below and they swarmed everywhere. Humans fought back, of course. Even went so far as to drop nuclear bombs in some places to try and stop the infection. But there were just too many demons.” William was trying to sound matter-of-fact, but Xander could hear the sorrow in his voice.

“The whole planet?”

“Dunno. I was captured straight away, and only got the news in bits, overhearing others, or when they wanted to rub it in. I expect they’ve conquered everything, though.”

“Jesus.”

“Not here, love.”

“Are humans…extinct?”

William sighed. “No. They’re kept like animals. For food, yeah? For labor as well, I reckon.”

“Christ, Will, we have to—”

William grabbed Xander’s shoulders. “Can’t. You can’t save all the worlds, pet. This one…this one’s lost.”

“But all these people—”

“Too late.”

Xander dropped his head. He knew William was right, but it was a bitter pill to swallow. At least he’d get Spike out of here, though. That was some small relief. “Let’s find him,” he said.

William nodded and let go of his shoulders. “Right.”

“Any idea where he is? Willow said he’d be nearby, but that could mean anything.”

William crept to the edge of the alley and peeked out.

“I recognize this place. Didn’t see it when…after Sunnydale, but I’d been here before. They kept me not far from here.”

“Let’s go, then.” Not only did Xander not want to stick around any longer than necessary, but he had no idea how much more time they had until the sun came out. 

But William put out a hand to stop him. “Something else you need to know.”

“What?” Xander was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be anything good.

“Angel had some…associates here in LA—”

“This is LA?!”

“Focus, pet.”

“Okay.”

“He had associates here. Fancied himself a supernatural Sam Spade. You knew one or two of them.”

Xander nodded. “Yeah. Cordelia. And Faith’s Watcher—Wesley.”

“Yeah. There were some others as well. Ordinary humans, I reckon.” William shook his head. “After the poof died in Sunnydale, LA fell soon after. And The First, it didn’t kill Angel’s lot. Like me, it had a special scheme for them.”

Xander felt ill. “What?”

“Had them turned. Some of The First’s fiercest minions….”

Xander pictured Cordelia as a vampire and felt faint. “Fuck.”

“You may see them. They used to…used to fancy playing with me.”

“Will...,” Xander began, brushing at his lover’s hair.

“Doesn’t matter now. Just wanted to warn you, so it’d be less of a shock if you saw them.”

Xander nodded speechlessly.

Moving very cautiously, William led the way out of the alley and down the street. Xander saw half of a sign hanging from one building and recognized it: Starbucks. He felt like Charlton Heston at the end of _Planet of the Apes_. But he still didn’t realize exactly where they were until William stopped and they peered around the corner. “Oh, shit!” Xander couldn’t help but exclaim.

“Shh!”

“Sorry,” he replied in a whisper. But he knew the building that William was looking at, because it alone was intact. It was Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. Xander had been there a few times—once when he was little, with his parents, before their heavy drinking began. Once much later, a couple years after Sunnydale, when he’d brought some Slayers to handle a Ytrin’gi infestation in Simi Valley, and they’d insisted on sightseeing afterwards. Both of those times there had been hordes of camera-toting tourists along with street people, security guys, and the usual range of buskers in costume. There had not been a pair of scaly demons the size of elephants flanking the theatre, nor a dozen or so Neanderthal vamps pacing back and forth.

William grabbed Xander’s arm and dragged him back into the darkness. “The First kept me chained in that courtyard, right over Mary Pickford and Marion Davies. I was a bit of a tourist attraction, yeah?”

Xander squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Okay. But what about the sun?”

“They’d stick a box over me before the sun rose. Metal thing. I had to curl up to fit in it and it was bloody hot. They took the box away at night.”

“William—”

“Don’t want your pity now, Xan. We’ve work to do.”

William was right, of course. “Any ideas how we get past the guards? I’m guessing just waltzing on it isn’t gonna work. I’ve got enough ammo to take out a few bad guys, but—”

“But not all of them. Let me think a moment.”

Xander thought too. They’d come as well armed as they could, but that wasn’t saying much, especially since the ubervamps were so hard to dust. Willow had said explosives wouldn’t travel through dimensions well—too unstable—so that left them with stakes, knives, holy water, a really nice ax and, in William’s case, fangs. That wouldn’t go far against the Turok-Han, and Christ knew what would take down the uglies on either side of the entrance. On top of that, William had reminded him that The First was now able to take a physical form, and it was very strong as well. 

Xander decided it was the Turok-Han that worried him the most. Yeah, the other two monsters were really big, but he’d taken on scarier things. But he knew what the Turok-Han were capable of, and how really hard they were to kill. A stake would do it, or beheading, but you had to get that just right. Sunlight would work, but he couldn’t control the sun. But….

“Will,” he whispered urgently.

“Told you to go before we left.”

“It’s not that!” Xander retorted, although to be honest, his bowels were feeling a little watery. “I have a plan.”

William looked at him sharply. “What?”

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“That goes without saying. Spill.”

Xander took a deep breath. “You and I hide out until sunrise. After that, things should be pretty quiet, I figure. The vamps all tucked in. You wait here, inside this building and I go across the street.”

“And get eaten by those beasts.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll take them out somehow. But at least the vamps won’t be able to get me. So I get into the courtyard and free Spike—”

“Who’s under a locked cage and chained heavily.”

“I can break locks. I’ve done it before.”

“And then he’ll burn.”

“I’ll bring a blanket. He might…I dunno…smolder a little, but I figure I can get him across the street. You used to wander around Sunnydale like that. So I just have to get him into the building and then I bonk you with my magic staff and we’re off.”

William shook his head. “Won’t work. You’ll be killed or worse.”

“Fine, Einstein. Then you come up with something. Because sitting here isn’t helping anyone.”

Xander received a furious scowl in response, but after several more minutes William hadn’t formulated a plan. Xander found himself wishing for Willow, or Buffy, or even Giles, all of whom were better at the scheming part than him. Finally, William snarled. “Follow me.”

He took them into a half-collapsed building a couple of blocks away. It used to be a souvenir store, and it was full of broken snow globes and shattered salt and pepper sets and faded photos of the stars. But there was no sign of recent entry, and in the corner was a pile of fleecy blankets with drawings of the Beatles and Marilyn Monroe. Xander found a blanket with Jimi Hendrix on it and shook off the dust. “This’ll work. It’s pretty thick.”

William poked at it. “I could use one to go in with you.”

“Yeah, and the minute you have to fight something you’re up in flames. But you can use one to get close to the theatre.” He handed him one depicting Spongebob.

With an impatient huff, William grabbed the blanket. 

They secreted themselves at the far back of the store, as close to the collapsed roof as William could safely go, and they made themselves as comfortable as possible. Xander could tell that William was thinking furiously, trying to come up with a better plan, and Xander really hoped he was successful. Xander wasn’t very optimistic about it, though.

They leaned against each other, both too anxious to sleep. And as it turned out, they only had an hour or so to wait before the sky lightened. They stood and stretched their muscles, and Xander made sure all his weapons were at hand. William draped himself with Spongebob. He opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver some quote, but Xander beat him to it: “Today is a good day to die.”

William poked him fondly. “Berk.”

“Hey, I always quote Star Trek when I’m about to commit suicide.”

They didn’t see anyone as they made their way towards the theatre. The vamps were gone, leaving only the scaly things visible. Xander grabbed his lover for a fierce kiss, made sure William had the staff tucked safely away, and then gently shoved him in through a side door to the building across from the theatre. “Hurry,” William said as he reluctantly went inside. 

Xander had given some thought to how to get as close as possible to Spike—while carrying an ax and looking far too human. He’d ended up having William nibble on him so he could smear some blood in among the dirt he’d picked up in the souvenir store, so now his face was filthy and his hair a tangled nest. He was enough of a mess that he hoped the big monsters wouldn’t be able to figure out right away quite what he was. William had added some of his own blood to the mix, saying it might help disguise Xander’s scent.

He walked boldly up to the entrance to the courtyard, trying to look as if he belonged there. The scaly demons watched him approach but didn’t move from their spot. Before he could enter, though, one of them growled and the other said, “What you want?”

“There’s a souled vamp in there.” He gestured towards the courtyard with his chin. “An old enemy. I have him to thank for this.” He pointed to his missing eye. “I want to thank him properly.”

One demon made a series of noises that Xander realized was supposed to be laughter. But the other one, the one who had spoken, grunted. “Sun out now. Boss no let you kill it.” 

“Oh, I’m not planning to kill him. That’s too easy. Don’t worry—I brought shade.” He’d had the blanket tucked under one arm and now he held it up.

Both demons crowded closer. As soon as they were in reach, Xander dropped the blanket, hefted the axe with both hands, and swung it at the demon who spoke, since it seemed to be the brighter of the two. Xander wasn’t sure what parts of these things might be lethal targets, but in his (personal) experience, the eyes were always good. Luckily, these demons’ eyes were set close together, so when the blade hit the demon’s face, it sliced cleanly through both of them. 

The demon roared horribly and stumbled backwards. Which was lucky, because it detached itself from the ax that way, and Xander had just enough time to swing at the other one. Unfortunately, he missed its face and the blade glanced uselessly off its shoulder. Those scales were tough as armor, and Xander’s arms hurt from the jolt. But he kept hold of the handle as if his life depended on it—which it did.

The demon screeched and tried to grab him. But Xander was nimble—he’d had many years of practice avoiding bear hugs from monsters—and he was able to leap aside. The demon was still trying to figure out where he’d gone when Xander swung again, and this time he hit his target. Demon number two went down with a bellow. It actually wrenched the axe away from him when it fell, and Xander had to yank hard to get it free.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he muttered, picking up the blanket. Apparently The First wasn’t really expecting daytime attacks, and the big demons had been more for show than anything else. He marched into the courtyard.

There was nothing there, no sign of anyone. But near the door there was a green metal box, not much bigger than an air conditioner unit. He winced to imagine how uncomfortable it would be crammed in there all day. Several metal bolts had been set into the cement, marring a couple of footprints, and the box was attached to the bolts with short chains. Xander took a deep breath and heaved the axe again. With an enormous clank, the first chain broke.

“Good axe,” he said.

The second and third chains were short work after that. He set the axe down, draped the blanket over one arm, and quickly pushed the box up and over.

He got just a glimpse of what was inside: pale, naked flesh marred by bloody welts, blond hair gone dark at the roots, a body curled into a tight fetal position. Then he draped the body with the blanket before anything could ignite. But there were chains here, too. Heavy ones around Spike’s ankles and wrists and neck. So short that Spike wouldn’t have been able to stand up, and could probably only sit in a crouch. Xander nudged an edge of the blanket away and swung the ax again, this time freeing Spike’s neck.

Spike peeked out from under the edge of the blanket. “Xander! No! Get away!” His voice was ragged, as if he’d been screaming.

“Just stay still. Don’t wanna chop off a limb.”

“No! Get out!”

Xander ignored him. With another swing he freed a hand. His next swing glanced off the concrete, which chipped. Xander swore and tried again, and then Spike’s other hand was free. “Almost done,” he said.

“Xan!” Spike yelled.

Xander was going to tell him to hang tight, but before he could open his mouth, something hard and heavy hit his head from behind, and he collapsed.

[Chapter Thirteen](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/263412.html)

 

 

  



	13. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to  [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/), who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (13/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  13 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** This fic is complete and I hope to post a chapter a day, travel permitting. Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to  [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[ **angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

 **  
**

  


 **Thirteen: The Undead Nation**

“Well, _this_ is interesting.”

Xander blinked and tried to clear his vision. Three marching bands were at war in his skull. But then that turned out to be the least of his problems, because he discovered he was spread-eagled on his back, his wrists and ankles bound in ropes and tied to support columns; a very sharp high heel was digging into his Adam’s apple. The uncomfortable shoe was worn on a shapely foot, and that foot was attached to a long leg, and he _knew_ that leg, although it had been a long time since he’d met up with it. So as his still slightly fuzzy gaze continued upward, he wasn’t especially surprised to discover a familiar face.

“Cordy,” he said, his voice slightly choked due to the constriction on his neck.

“You’re supposed to be dead. We were told that very specifically.”

“Um…surprise?”

She didn’t smile at him, and although she was beautiful as always, there was a hardness in her face that had never been there before.

“Hey, Cordy. Maybe you could untie me and we could catch up, you know, talk about the old days.”

“You mean when you cheated on me and nearly got me killed?”

“There were good times, too. Do you remember when—”

“Enough.”

Xander turned his head—carefully—to look at the source of the interruption. It was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, only he didn’t look anything like the gawky nerd Xander remembered. This version of Wesley didn’t wear glasses or a suit, but was sporting a dark leather jacket and dark shirt and pants. He looked a little like a hit man, Xander thought. The handsome but sociopathic type who might work more for fun than money.

“Where have you been hiding all these years?” Wes demanded.

Xander realized that they had no idea he was from a different universe. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but decided to play it close for now. “Um…here and there. Just lying low.”

Cordelia dug her heel in more sharply. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking in on some old pals?”

She pressed down with her foot, and he gagged and tried unsuccessfully to break free. When he was almost sure he was going to pass out, she relented, leaving him gasping. “Smart-ass wasn’t funny when you were sixteen, Xander, and it’s not any better now. Where have you been and how did you get here? And who else is with you?” She looked over at Wesley. “No way Wonderboy did this by himself.”

Before Xander had a chance to answer, he heard a groan. He twisted his head around as far as he could, and then he had to groan as well at what he saw. Spike was several feet away, curled up on the floor of what must once have been the theatre lobby. He was still naked, and the parts of his skin that weren’t bloody and torn were charred and blistered. He was bound in some sort of bondage getup, a metal contraption that attached to his ankles, wrists, and neck, forcing his hands to remain at his feet and his back to remain bowed. Shit. Xander had held out a small hope that Spike had somehow managed to get away.

Cordelia kicked Xander hard in the ribs, making him yelp. “So what I don’t get is how come Xander Harris is trying to play rescue ninja for Spike. Who put you up to it?”

Xander shook his head. “Nobody. It’s just me.”

Wes stepped close and peered down at him the way a scientist would look at an interesting bug just before sticking it with a pin. “I don’t believe that. You couldn’t possibly have survived this long on your own. Where are the others?”

“There aren’t any others. I told you.”

Cordelia huffed. “Let’s cut this crap. I’ll send one of the minions for some pokers or knives or—I know! Remember that cute little electric prod we had?”

Wes shook his head. “No, darling. I’m not in the mood for torture just now. It gets so…tedious. But I’ve another idea.”

Cordelia pouted a little, so Wes stepped over Xander, wrapped an arm around her, and licked at her neck. Somehow that was more disturbing to Xander than the threatened inquisition. “You’ll like this,” Wes purred into her ear.

“Fine,” she said, her lower lip still sticking out. “But then you better bring me someone tasty for dinner, bub.”

“No need,” Wes smiled. And then he vamped out.

Xander desperately thought of ways to play for time. Not that he expected a miraculous rescue to occur if he waited long enough—and God, he hoped William had just gone back without him—but more time was almost always better. “”I might have some info,” he said loudly. “But not for you. I only talk to the boss.”

Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “The boss? Does it look like we punch a timecard here, moron?”

“The First. Take me to The First and I’ll talk. Kill me and I bet The First’ll be really pissed.”

Wes went down on one knee beside him. “If our master were here you most certainly would talk. Sadly, our master is away now on business.”

“Fine. I can wait.”

Wes’s fangs glimmered as he smiled again. “Yes. Quite. But feeding and cleaning humans is so tiresome, and the nearest farms are far from here. I haven’t any interest in dragging you out to the countryside. No. I’ve a better way to keep you…fresh.”

As Cordelia’s face shifted, too, Xander suddenly realized what they intended to do. “No!” he cried. “No way, you bastards! You lay one tooth on me and I promise—”

“Promise what?” Wes asked, amused.

“I promise I’ll dust you myself.”

Both of the vampires laughed. “More with the promises you can’t keep, huh?” Cordelia said, kicking him again. The toes of her shoes were pointy. 

Wesley placed two fingers on Xander’s neck, as if he were taking a pulse. “You’ll find, Xander, that your priorities will alter considerably once you rise. It’s quite liberating, actually. I’ll make sure you thank us properly.”

“Fuck you!” Xander yelled helplessly as Cordelia knelt on his other side. They watched him for a few moments as he thrashed around. His movements were violent enough to cause the ropes to dig into his skin, and then Cordelia licked at one of his wrists.

“Yummy! Who knew a total loser could taste so delicious?”

They both bent low over his neck.

“No!” he screamed, and he thought maybe he heard Spike yell something too. But it didn’t matter, because a second later two sets of fangs were sinking into his throat. 

It wasn’t anything like when William bit him.

***

He woke up really fucking hungry.

Not Gee I’ve Got the Munchies Let’s Make a Run for the Border, not Man that Chocolate Cake Looks Tasty. _Hungry_. As in nothing else mattered, not a single thing in the entire world, except for filling his belly. And only one thing was going to satisfy his cravings now.

He roared and pulled at the ropes.

Wes and Cordelia came running to his side. “Extraordinary!” Wes said. “I’ve never heard of someone rising so quickly.”

“Xander Harris never did do anything right,” she replied.

“Perhaps it’s because we turned him together.”

“Whatever.”

“How are you feeling, Xander?” There was that bug look again.

“Starving.” Xander’s mouth felt odd and he tasted blood. He licked at his lips eagerly but it was only his own. He’d bitten his tongue on his unfamiliar fangs. The rest of his face felt odd, too. Heavy. But God—his senses! He could see a line of ants making its way across the ceiling twenty-five feet above his head. He could make out every detail of them—count the segments of their bodies, see the way their feelers waved, even discern what it was they were carrying: bits of flesh, actually. But more than that, he could hear their thousands of tiny footsteps pattering on the plaster. The smells, though, they were what occupied him most. The odors of the thousands of humans who had once walked through this theatre, the scents of his sires and of Cordelia’s perfume, of the soap they must be using and their shampoo. He could smell other demons too, and old smells of fear and death. And he could smell Spike and William, their blood so very similar but not quite identical, like wines of slightly different vintages maybe. William’s blood was still smeared on his face and Spike—Spike was just across the floor, battered and bound, gazing at him with despair.

Xander turned his head away from Spike and looked up at Wes. “Feed me.”

Wes grinned. “Delighted to.”

Cordelia stared at Xander while Wesley walked away. “You make a weird-looking vampire. I guess it’s the eye thing.”

He didn’t answer, just licked the last droplet of blood from his lips and listened to the sound of a bird calling far away. He was cold and his chest felt so strangely still. He experimented—holding his breath for much longer than a human could have—and then drawing oxygen in again. The oxygen wasn’t necessary, but it was a little more comfortable to allow his lungs to do their thing.

Wesley returned a few moments later, but Xander heard and smelled him before he arrived. Then Xander began to thrash in his ropes again, because Wesley was not alone. His sire came into view a moment later, holding a naked, filthy man by one forearm. The man was thin and his hair was long and matted. He was probably only in his twenties—it was hard to tell through the grime—but his back was stooped and his skin marred by many scars. His eyes were blank.

Wesley pushed the man to his knees. It didn’t take much effort and the man didn’t put up a fight. Wes bent and grabbed the man’s matted hair, dragging him so that he was almost face to face with Xander. Xander could hear the man’s heart beating, hear all that wonderful blood just swooshing around inside, see his pulse as it trembled in his throat. Xander licked his lips again. “Give me,” he growled.

Wesley did: he forced the man’s head down a little more. Xander arched his neck, raising his own head as much as he could, and struck at that dirty, vulnerable flesh.

Oh fuck. The feeling of his teeth entering that body was like nothing he’d ever experienced. He wanted to howl with the primal joy of it. And the taste of hot, living blood! Christ, how had William and Spike put up with cold animal so long? How could a stupid, useless soul make them give up this ecstasy?

Xander drank and drank until the man’s heart stilled, and still he sucked the last remaining drops. His belly grew pleasantly full.

Wesley picked up the corpse and tossed it to the side. Idly, Xander wondered if the minions would clean it or whether it would be left for the ants to dispose of. “When’s the next course?” he asked.

Wesley laughed. “Don’t be greedy, now. All in good time. We’ve other matters to discuss first.”

“And he’s gross,” Cordelia chimed in. “Almost as gross as the Turok-Han, only not bald. Can we please get him cleaned up if we’re gonna keep him?”

“Very well. Fetch me those chains, will you, darling?”

Cordelia frowned and tromped across the room. She came back with an armful of clattering metal. “What’s that for?” Xander asked, narrow-eyed.

“Security. Once The First is finished with you—assuming you are well-behaved and you survive the experience—we can discuss the steps you may take to earn our trust. In the meantime, I’m afraid we’ll use these.”

“You’re not fooling me. You just get your jollies out of the BDSM shit.”

Wesley shrugged, unconcerned. “Perhaps. But that’s only a side benefit. Now, behave yourself. If you become a favorite of The First, you might even be permitted to play with Spike now and then.”

Xander glanced at Spike, who’d shut his eyes and was mumbling to himself: “All things may corrupt when minds are prone to evil.” Apparently Spike had caught William’s crazy.

“I don’t want to play with him,” Xander said.

“Really? He can be quite diverting. Well, we shall see. That’s later anyway. For now—”

“More feeding?”

Wesley laughed again. “Perhaps.”

Xander waited as they cut the ropes that held him, and then meekly permitted them to put his wrists in cuffs and his ankles in a hobble chain. Despite the meal, he still felt weak. Dying took it out of a guy. He was left with about six inches of give between his manacles and a little more between his feet. Enough so that when they hauled him to his feet, he had to shuffle awkwardly along. He followed Wesley as they left the lobby, with Cordelia pushing him from behind. He thought maybe he heard Spike moan once as they exited.

***

Wesley wouldn’t let him eat again right away. First he took Xander through the old theatre and up some stairs. An entrance had been made between Grauman’s Theatre and the building next door. Badly made—whoever did the work was no carpenter. But on the other side was a lavish apartment, full of expensive stuff that Cordelia had probably ordered to be scavenged from the wrecks of fancy stores. From the way vampires and various lesser demons scampered about following his sires’ orders, Xander got the impression that Wes and Cordy were pretty high mucky-mucks. 

“Come here,” Cordelia commanded impatiently.

Xander shuffled over and found himself in an enormous bathroom—minus a toilet, of course. He stood as Cordelia had a couple of minions tear his clothing off. The chains kept him from simply removing his own shirt and pants. His sires gave him appraising looks as he was herded into the huge shower and thoroughly scrubbed.

“If I’d known he was that well hung maybe I’d have let him sleep with me after all.” Cordelia’s voice was audible even over the running water.

“Well, after he’s had a bit of training you can play with him all you wish, darling.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Englishman. I see you eyeing his ass.”

“And his mouth. It’s quite a lovely one.”

Xander wasn’t too thrilled about being sized up like that, but he didn’t comment as the shower continued. After the shower he was dried, and then Cordelia supervised a haircut that he hoped wasn’t too awful—he couldn’t have seen for himself even if the bathroom had contained mirrors. He was momentarily unchained and allowed to dress himself in an outfit Cordelia brought from somewhere: wool trousers and a silky forest-green shirt. Neither was his style but at least he seemed to be exempt from the male vampires’ black on black dress code.

Finally, they chained him in a corner of the room with some pillows to make himself marginally more comfortable, and he had to watch them fuck. It didn’t turn him on. In fact, he fell asleep in the middle of Act Two.

*** 

He smelled breakfast before his eye opened and he was instantly wide awake. It was a woman this time, as dirty and worn-out as the man had been, but she also had saggy tits and a stomach full of stretch marks. “I’m told she was a good breeder in her time,” Wesley sighed. “But it’s been some time since she’s been able to bring a brat to term.”

“I don’t care,” Xander said. “Hungry.”

“Of course you are. Here.”

This time, Wesley simply pushed the meal into Xander’s arms, and Xander wasted no time in tearing into her throat. It took him scant moments to drain her, and when he was done, he kicked the body aside. “I’m still fucking hungry. Let me go.”

“Not yet,” Wes said with a shake of his head and walked away.

Xander spent a couple of hours sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, bored out of his skull. Hey, at least his head didn’t hurt anymore from the blow he’d taken before he was killed. He prodded at his scalp experimentally. Yep, all better.

He leapt to his feet when Wesley returned with another used-up human. But just as Xander was starting to feed, shouting came from below and a minion scuttled into the apartment. “Hurry!” the minion cried.

Wes ran out, leaving Xander to eat in peace. When this corpse was drained, Xander finally felt full. And strong. He tugged at the chains. No, not quite.

Wesley returned some time later, slightly disheveled and grim-faced. “I believe some explanations are in order, Xander,” he said, sounding absurdly like Mrs. Abernathy, Xander’s overly-strict third grade teacher.

“What?”

“Come with me.”

Wes unlocked the chains from where they’d been fastened to the wall and dragged Xander along with him. It was hard to keep up with the hobbles on, especially on the stairs, and Xander almost fell several times. But he did keep his feet thanks to his newfound grace. In a matter of seconds, they were back in the lobby.

Spike was still there, still hunched miserably and not looking at all improved. But now there was a newcomer, down on his knees and held tightly by two seven-foot-tall red demons. The newcomer saw Xander and wailed: “Xander! God, no!”

Apparently William recognized right away what Xander had become.

Cordelia was there with her hands on her hips. “Like one bleached wonder wasn’t more than enough. Are there whole herds of fangless Billy Idol wannabes? What the hell is going on?”

Xander laughed harshly. “Hell is right, isn’t it?”

William gave him a desperate look. “Xan, please? You’re still there, right? Still—”

“I’m dead,” Xander said flatly. “You’re looking at a demon and you know it.”

William began to sob brokenly.

“Xander?” Wesley asked, clearly trying for patience and not quite succeeding.

“It’s…it’s an alternate universe thing.”

“But which one is the real Spike?”

“What difference does it make?”

Wesley nodded thoughtfully. “They both have souls, haven’t they?”

“Yep.”

“And that was this new Spike’s blood on you when we found you. You were in this together. What was it you were meaning to do?”

“Rescue Spike and get the fuck out of here.”

Wes nodded. “Because of the soul. I see. Did you have something to do with his disappearance several months ago—and then his sudden reappearance?”

Xander shrugged.

“Interesting.” Wes walked back and forth between the crying William and the hopeless Spike, examining them both, and then looked back at Xander. “Which of them were you fucking?”

Xander pointed at William. “Him.”

“Well, once we’ve sorted these matters and if you are well-behaved, I daresay you’ll be allowed to use him again. He won’t be yours exclusively, of course.”

“I’ve shared him before.”

Wes nodded again, his eyes glittering avariciously. “Very well.” To the red demons he said, “Secure him. Xander and I shall have a chat now.”

“Wait,” said Xander. “I think he has something on him. Something important. Let me look.”

“By all means,” Wes said, gesturing at William.

Xander walked over to William, his chains clanking merrily, and then knelt. William had stopped crying and looked at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Xander pawed through William’s coat—Xander’s coat, really—until he found the staff. “Xander. I’m sorry,” William whispered hoarsely.

Xander stood and looked down at William. “They say time is a fire in which we burn; right now I’m running out of time.” He could quote the classics, too. Yeah, okay, maybe _Star Trek: Generations_ wasn’t the best of the series, but give him a break. He’d just died, for chrissake. He only hoped his obscure words made more sense to William than William’s had to him. And maybe they did—William’s eyes suddenly sharpened.

“What is that?” Wesley asked, stepping closer. “It smells like magic.”

“And it’s ugly, too,” Cordelia added with a twist of her lips. 

Xander held the staff towards Wes. “It is magic. Wanna see what it does?”

Wes stepped closer and reached for it. “Let me see.”

“Intimately,” Xander responded, and thrust the wood into Wes’s chest. It wasn’t as sharp as a stake and Xander’s swing was somewhat hampered by the manacles, but he had the strength now to really jam the wood in deep. Wes had just enough time to gape in astonishment before he disappeared in a shower of ashes.

“Get him!” Cordelia shrieked like a bad movie villain. The red demons let go of William and lunged for Xander. Xander had the feeling that wood through the heart wasn’t going to do it for those guys, and besides, they were sort of lumpy and he wasn’t sure where their hearts were. But he stood his ground and willed his face to shift—man, that felt _good_ , like popping a stiff joint—and with a mighty yank, broke the chain connecting his wrists. He’d been so weak as a human! How had he been able to stand it?

It was hard to see around the demons, but Xander could just barely make out the blur as William rose to his feet and then launched himself at Cordelia. She gave him a wicked kick that sent him flying, but he was upright again in no time and advancing on her.

Xander smiled and licked at a fang. “Come and get me, big boys.”

They did.

The red demons were big and strong, but Xander was faster and he felt like Superman. Maybe he couldn’t quite fly, but his body still knew all the fighting moves he’d been practicing for over half his life, only now his speed and his power were exponentially improved. Plus it felt so fucking wonderful when his fists or fangs met flesh. He wished he could kick, too, but his feet were still hampered by the hobbles. He took several good blows from his opponents. His nose got smashed in and he felt his ribs crack; his uncirculating blood formed bruises on his back and chest and arms. It hurt. But the pain was a faraway thing, encouraging him more than slowing him down.

He twisted one demon’s head clean off, throwing it away like a beach ball. That gave him a clearer view of William, who was still locked in combat with Cordelia. But then the other demon managed to sweep Xander’s legs out from underneath him and Xander crashed to the ground with the monster on top of him. It was heavy. And its breath smelled like a sewer in August. It pinned his chest in place and scrabbled at his face, going for the remaining eye.

Nobody had ever accused Xander of being a fair fighter, even when he had a soul. He roared and brought his hands down on the demon’s crotch, hoping it would have the same effect as on a human. Satisfyingly, it did. The demon screamed and tried to clamber off, but Xander grabbed hold of something small and sort of spiny, and he squeezed and twisted with all his might.

He tore the demon’s dick right off.

No matter how committed you are to a brawl, it’s hard to continue when someone rips your junk away. The demon screeched horribly and clutched at itself. Xander let go of the demon dick and squiggled out from underneath. He put one arm under its neck and gave its head a mighty twist, and suddenly a missing penis was no longer a problem for the demon. It slumped in his grip, dead.

Xander spun around and picked up the staff, which he’d managed to drop at some point. “Will!” he shouted and threw. William caught the stick neatly, just in time to jam it between Cordelia’s ribs. _Poof_ and she was gone, too.

Xander ran to William’s side. “You okay?” he asked grabbing his lover’s shoulders and doing a quick visual inspection.

“I’m— Yeah, but….”

“I think we better get out of here before the cavalry shows up. Come here.” He grabbed the staff away and towed William over to Spike by one arm. Spike was still heavily bound, but now he was grinning widely.

“You were brilliant. Both of you.”

“Thanks,” Xander responded. “Escape now, compliments later. Spike, this thing is gonna join you and Will together. Permanently.”

Spike goggled a little. “So we can both stay without bloody unbalancing things.”

“Yep. Are you willing?”

Spike glanced at William and nodded. “Do it.”

“Wait!” William cried.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you, Will? Running out of options here,” Xander said.

“No, it’s only…. You’re a vampire.”

Xander grinned a sharp grin. “Yep. Full-fledged member of the undead nation.”

“And you’ve no soul.”

“Christ, no! How you can stand having that thing inside you, weighing you down….”

“But you saved us.”

“I love you, remember? You of all people should know it doesn’t take a soul to love someone.” He heard shouting from outside. “C’mon. Let’s do this.”

William nodded and knelt beside Spike, putting a hand on his bare shoulder. Xander took a deep breath—old habits die hard—pointed the staff at them, and said the magic word.

There was a flash of light bright enough to momentarily blind him, and a bang that deafened. When he regained his senses, noises from outside were coming closer. William was on his back on the floor, unconscious. There was no sign of Spike, just the irons in which he’d been trussed. Xander dropped the staff and fell to his knees beside William. He shook him, hard. “Will? Spike? Anyone? You in there?”

William’s eyes fluttered open. “Bloody hell!” he whispered.

“Are you both there?” Xander sounded a little frantic even to himself. Whatever was coming was getting very close, and it sounded like there were a lot of them.

“I’m whole,” said William. “Let’s go.”

Xander almost fainted with relief. He took William’s hand in his and recited the spell Willow had taught him.

As had happened when they crossed dimensions the first time, everything immediately went completely black. There was no sound at all except for eerie echoes, and no way to tell which way was up. If up even existed. But Xander could feel William’s strong grip and he squeezed back. 

And then he started to burn. It _hurt **,**_ oh fuck it hurt, and Xander screamed soundlessly. He was convinced he’d somehow ended up with a sun inside him because that’s how it felt, and he tried to let go of William so William wouldn’t burn as well. But William wouldn’t let him go and Xander couldn’t shake him off and then he was falling and falling.

[Chapter Fourteen](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/263576.html)

    
   
  



	14. </strong> Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/) , who made the beautiful banner.

_**Refuge (14/14)**_  
 **Title:**  Refuge  
 **Chapter:**  14 of 14  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC17  
 **Disclaimer** : I'm not Joss   
 **Summary** : Several years post-series, Xander is a Watcher in Barcelona. A distressed Spike shows up unexpectedly at his door.   
 **Warnings:** Violence, brief mentions of non-con  
 **Notes:** Many thanks to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  , my wonderful beta; and to [](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**angelstoy**](http://angelstoy.livejournal.com/)  , who made the beautiful banner.

[Previous chapters here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Refuge&filter=all).

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is always cherished.

 **  
**

 **Fourteen: The End**

“Stay still, wanker!”

Xander thrashed and fought and almost got free, but there were too many hands on him and he was confused, and he couldn’t resist quite hard enough as someone chained his arms above his head.

“You certain those will hold? Saw him break that other pair as if it were cheap plastic.”

“They’re enchanted. They’ll hold.” That was a familiar voice. Willow.

Xander peeled his eye open very cautiously.

William and Willow and Giles were standing over him, all frowning anxiously. On the ceiling above him, one of the three bulbs in the light fixture was burned out. He’d been meaning to change that for a couple of weeks but hadn’t quite got around to it, what with Spike gone, and—

“Spike!”

William petted Xander’s shoulder. “’M here, pet.”

“And William?”

“Here as well. We’re…I’m only me now.”

“You’re both of you?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit confusing in my noggin now, but I’ve had worse. Besides, used to different bits floating about in my head, aren’t I?”

“What…what should I call you?”

With a smile, Xander’s lover sat on the mattress and softly caressed his cheek. “Whatever you fancy, love. Doesn’t matter.”

“Xan?” Willow said very hesitantly. “Are you…are you all right?”

That’s when Xander noticed that Giles was clutching a stake in one hand.

“I’m okay,” Xander said. “Kinda hungry. I—” He stopped himself as vivid memories came flooding back. “Oh no! Oh, fuck!”

“What is it?” Spike asked, face sharp with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I killed them. Oh God, Spike, I killed them.”

“You only killed Percy. I got the cheerleader.”

“Not them!” Xander didn’t regret dusting his sires at all. He’d do it again without hesitation to save Spike. “The people, Spike. I killed three of them. Would have eaten more if I could have.” He remembered with perfect clarity the way they had struggled feebly against him, how he’d enjoyed the feel of feeding on them so much his cock had hardened and his balls had tingled. “Oh, God,” he repeated, and turned his head, trying to hide his face in the pillow.

Gently, Spike said, “’T’s what vampires do, innit? And you’re only a fledge—you need to eat more often now.”

Xander snapped his head around to look at Giles. “Dust me. Now, goddammit! It could be you next time, or Willow or, shit, Dawnie, or—”

“Xander.” Spike used his hand to turn Xander back to face him. “You can control yourself. You won’t attack people you love.”

“Yeah? What about the other six billion human beings, Spike? Gonna keep me chained up forever?”

Spike just look confused.

“Spike?” Giles said. “This…this isn’t normal for a newly risen vampire, is it?”

“This isn’t normal for any vamp, Watcher.” Then Spike’s eyes widened. “Except for one with a soul.”

“A soul? But he’s said he killed three already—”

“Xan.” Spike interrupted. “When you fed from those people—after you were done, did you have any remorse?”

Xander answered quietly. “No. When they were drained I was done with them. Empty wrappers is all.”

“But now?”

“Now I wish Wes and Cordy had just fucking left me dead.”

Spike and Willow and Giles all exchanged looks. Willow spoke next. “Sweetie? What happened when you were traveling? ’Cause Spike came back in good shape, but you’ve been out of it for hours and hours.”

“I…I burned….”

Another round of shocked glances exchanged. Giles muttered, “It’s not possible…. However on earth could—”

“Wasn’t on earth, was he?” interrupted Spike. “Maybe the rules are different in between.”

“Oh!” Willow exclaimed. “Oh! Oh!”

Everyone looked at her expectantly. 

“It’s Spike’s! Or maybe William’s, I don’t know, but I guess it really doesn’t make a difference ’cause they’re pretty much the same anyway, and when you transferred it must have—and then with the spell and all, and—”

“Red.” Spike stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Care to explain in actual English?”

She was beaming and bouncing on her feet. “It’s yours!”

“What’s mine?”

“The soul.”

He shook his head. “No. I assure you, mine’s still here,” he said patting his chest.

“Yeah, sure. One of them. Look, when Xander used the magics to bind you into one person, you ended up with two souls. Because Spike and William both had them, and souls don’t just dry up and go away all that easy. Um, unless you’re Angel, I guess.”

“Right. So I’ve two souls.”

“You _had_ two souls. But when you guys left that other universe, somehow one of yours got…transferred. Now Xander has it.”

Everyone stared down at Xander, who tried to assess the truth of what she said. Her explanation made sense, at least as much sense as anything ever did. He could feel the soul inside him, hot and heavy, like a burning stone. “I don’t want it. It’s…. What I did!”

Spike stroked his cheek again. “Multiply that times several thousand, love, and you’ll know how I feel.” He sighed. “There’s nothing we can do to bring back those we’ve harmed, Xan. Nothing we can do for them at all. But we can help others. Doesn’t change the past, but makes our existence worthwhile.”

Xander gave Spike’s words a few minutes to sink in. As they did, Willow gave him a sad little smile. “We’ve all done awful stuff, Xan. Everyone in this room. Well, except for Giles—”

“I have as well,” Giles interjected. “I as well.”

She nodded. “But we’ve all saved the world, too. That counts for something, doesn’t it? Especially if we keep on with the saving?”

Spike squeezed Xander’s shoulder. “You’re a brilliant fighter. Never seen a new vamp so strong. You’ll terrorize every wannabe big bad in Europe.”

“Why _is_ he so strong?” Giles asked, suddenly rediscovering his scientific curiosity. “Surely that’s not Spike’s doing as well. Spike and William hadn’t even been joined yet.”

“I had two sires,” Xander said, and couldn’t help a hysterical giggle. _Xander Has Two Sires_ : it sounded like the title of a children’s book meant to teach sensitivity towards gay vampires. “Maybe that’s why.”

“Extraordinary!” 

Xander wiggled uncomfortably. Apparently Giles knew that bug stare, too. Must have been a page Xander had skipped in the Watcher Handbook.

“I should like to do some testing—”

“Not now,” Spike said firmly, and stood. “My boy’s knackered. Can’t hardly blame him—flitting between dimensions, dying and rising, fighting, then getting a soul jammed into him, all at once. Leave him be. We can discuss tests later.”

Giles nodded and so did Willow. “Bye, sweetie,” she said. “We’ll check in with you tomorrow night, okay?”

They turned to leave, but Xander said, “Wait!” and they turned back. “Why aren’t you freaking out that I’m a vampire now?”

“We did at first, when Spike told us. You missed that part with the unconsciousness and all. But…you’re still our Xander. We still love you, even without a pulse.”

Xander swallowed thickly and Spike poked him. “You of all people should know it’s possible to love someone who hasn’t a pulse.”

Xander smiled a little. He wondered if his Slayers would be willing to work for a vampire Watcher. He hoped so—he could really spar with them now, make sure they were fully prepared to fight monsters. Well, he could deal with that later. He could deal with everything later, including figuring out the new twists and turns of his complicated demon lover. His smile grew.

Willow waved as she and Giles started for the door. “Wait!” he called again.

They looked at him.

“The chains? Can you undo them?”

“I dunno, pet,” Spike said, tickling him. “I rather fancy them, myself.”

Giles rolled his eyes and Willow blushed a little before muttering something that sounded like backwards barfing. The manacles clicked open. Xander lowered his arms, wincing at the way it jostled his injured torso, and rubbed at his wrists. “Hey. The other chains are gone, too.” He kicked his feet a little. They were free as well.

“Witch sorted that while you were out.” Spike raised an eyebrow at her. “Perhaps you’ll teach me that spell, love. Vamp-proof chains can come in quite handy.” He added a leer for good measure.

She giggled and waved again, then she and Giles left.

Xander reached up to tug at a lock of Spike’s hair. It was William’s hair, long and honey-colored. “Gonna go back to bleaching and gelling?”

“Dunno. Perhaps I’ll dye it blond again but keep it down like this. Looks poncy but feels lovely when you run your fingers through it.”

“It doesn’t look poncy. It’s nice.”

Spike snorted.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Spike? With two of you in there, I mean?”

“Doesn’t feel like that, though, does it? I’ve two sets of memories from the past years and sometimes two sets of…of reactions to things, I expect. We had different experiences and they changed us. But it’s not too bad. I’ll manage. Better than leaving half of myself behind in that place.”

“No more poetry and random quoting?”

“No. I’m feeling quite sane. But sanity is a madness put to good use.” He smiled. “Could still manage a dirty limerick now and then. And you? Won’t miss having two of us?”

“I think one of you’s vamp enough for me.” Xander grinned. “The bed won’t be so crowded.” Then he frowned at a new thought. “I guess I don’t taste so great anymore.”

Spike bent down and snuffled at Xander’s neck. “Nah. Judging by the scent, you’re delicious as always. I’ll have a nosh later, when you’re mended.” His eyes lit up. “And you can have some of me. It’s been ages….”

“Mmm,” Xander said with a happy shiver.

Spike stood straight. “So we’d best get you mended straight away. We’ve some cow blood still in the fridge. Not as good as human, I’m afraid, but it’ll do.”

“Okay.” Xander yawned. He was exhausted and the reality of his new situation hadn’t quite sunk in yet. And the soul—it ached. He wanted to be healed soon not only so he and Spike could shag, but also so he could re-doff his slightly soiled white hat. “But will you still cook me human food?”

Spike bent to kiss his forehead. “Of course.”

He started to walk away, but Xander grabbed his belt loop. He was wearing Spike’s black jeans, Xander noticed, but one of William’s expensive blue shirts. “Top or bottom?” Xander asked.

Spike laughed. “Dunno, do I? William fancied one and Spike the other, but…I reckon we’ll have to take turns.”

“Suits me,” Xander said, letting go of the loop and patting Spike’s ass. He yawned again. “Suits me just fine.”

Spike walked off. Xander could hear him in the kitchen, clanking cups around. Outside, a group of noisy young people were walking down the street, laughing with one another and singing lines of songs. Xander realized he was going to have to find a new way to get blood—La Boqueria was open mainly during daylight, especially this time of year. Maybe the butcher would deliver. And, Xander decided, he was going to have a talk with Giles. Spike should get double pay from the Council, and Xander should get a raise, now that he’d been upgraded. Later. There would be plenty of time. They had eternity now, didn’t they?

Xander snuggled down in his sheets and listened to the sounds of his lover—his soulmate!—preparing him something to eat. Tomorrow there could be questions and answers, angst and healing. Now—now he felt very safe.

 _~~~fin~~~_

   
   


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!


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